Sandra's Story
by Enocher
Summary: An Adept previously controlled by the evil Nazin Redthorn struggles with her new-found freedom and reflects on her life to date, but Nazin has something else to say about losing his best Sorcerer, so Sandra soon finds herself fighting for her life.
1. A Childhood Lost

Sandra's Story- Chapter 1

Sandra walked down a path bathed in moonlight, not entirely sure where she was headed or what she was going to do, but she walked on regardless. She let out a sigh, while listening to the night wolves howl their mournful cry at the moon above, and she felt a strange sense of calm about the situation she was mixed into. As Sandra pondered deeper, she realized that it wasn't quite calm that she felt, but a surreal detachment. She sighed again and referred to a map received not too long ago. When Sandra finally pulled it out of her pack, she stared at it with a dumbfounded look. The Valley of Harkenwold lay sprawled out in front of her, represented in finely inked lines. It finally occurred to Sandra that she was free. Free to go wherever she wanted for once in her 20 and 4 years life, and was completely frozen with indecision. Sandra shook herself out of her stupor and looked at the map with a new resolve.

'_I can go anywhere'_ Sandra thought to herself '_But I know where I _have _to go_' With this thought in mind, she placed the map back in her pack and set out on the worn path once again with the town of Albridge set firmly in her mind's eye. '_Yes'_ Sandra thought again '_I have to make things right'_

As she walked, Sandra reflected on the circumstances that brought her to where she stood now. With her mind turned towards the past, Sandra walked, breathing in her freedom, mind wrapped up in things lost.

* * *

Nearly 20 years earlier, in the sleepy farming village of Rentervale, the sun began to sink, lighting up the sky in a brilliant red hue, characteristic of the autumn season. The farmers of the collective farms placed their tools back in barns and sheds, and proceeded to the only tavern for miles around to share stories and relax after the backbreaking work of honest farmers.

At one table in particular, three villagers had gathered and spoke of tales from beyond the Silver-rush river, the border of the Rentervale hamlets. A craftsman sat down carrying with him 4 tankards of the Tavern's finest.

One of the villagers, with a nod and a grin that could barely be perceived under his massive moustache, takes a long drink. He continued speaking after that swig of ale. "Now, I tell ya', the villages to the south aren't farin' much better than us. Hodgins' boy came back from Scarlet Grove two days south of here with news that their farms were late along in development as well."

"Bad news all around, I'm afraid. But you mustn't worry, Jones. We are good men of Pelor, hard working men of Pelor, and he'll see us through this time, as he always has." Claimed the older gentlemen after listening to Jones' tale and taking a swallow of ale.

The third villager was the one to speak next, as he brushed back his long dark hair away from his face. "There you go again, Alain. I'm telling you, the Gods have no interest in the common folk. It's the clerics and the paladins who received the God's 'holy love'." He emphasized the holy love comment with a grand sweep of the hand. "And they have no interest in the working man."

Alain looked as though he was about to argue this point when the final villager, with red hair tied back in a workman's knot spoke up "Alain, and Jenkins, quit your bickering. We don't want to spend all of our tavern time on pointless debate, now do we? It doesn't matter how we will get through this winter, but rest assured we will, as we always have. It's the Rentervale way." Alain nodded, somewhat reluctantly, and the redheaded villager continued. "Now, I have some news that is a bit more unsettling than seasonal difficulties. The settlement of the Granite Way has completely ceased communication."

The villager named Jones let out short bark of a laugh, his moustache twitching as he did so. "The Granite boys were fools to even set up that far north, and in the Obsidian Scar Mountains to boot. I never expected them to last, the damn fools. And who really did, eh Mackal?" He laughed once more, expecting the group to join in, but he found both Alain and Jenkins looking into their drink with a serious expression plastered on their face. His laughter cut out immediately.

The redhead named Mackal looked Jones directly in the eye and spoke in a sombre tone, "You know as well as I that they made it through a winter and would never just cut out like that. There would be refugees, a message, something. As it stands, this is news for serious consideration, eh Jones?" He uttered that last question with a sort of dark humour. Jones looked very focused on the tankard in front of him. The night continued after they finished their alcohol, and entered a more jovial mood, but the dark cloud yet hung over the crowd, like a thunderhead just waiting for the right moment to storm.

* * *

Mackal stepped into the entryway to his house before sighing and hanging his cloak up on the hook behind him. The talk throughout the night was wearing on him, and the looming threats of famine, and something worse from the northern mountains pressed heavily on his back. He stepped out of his boots and into the main room of his residence and glanced around. The fireplace in the back of the room burned dimly, more ember than flame at this point, and the place was quiet, save for the occasional pop emanating from the fire. He stepped quietly now, opening the door to his daughter's room and staring at the sleeping form with a sort of depressed pride. His four year old girl was growing up so fast. She was already speaking fluently, as much as any hyper curious 4 year old would. Leaning on the doorway, he wondered about how the coming months would affect her innocent mind and if he would ever be able to protect her from it all. He closed the door as quietly as it was opened and moved over to his own room where his wife slept silently.

Slipping into bed, Mackal's wife stirred and asked "Did you have a good time at the pub?"

Mackal sighed before responding. "I suppose so. Times are looking tough lately, though. I'm not sure what we are to do..." He trailed off.

Mackal's wife, Sarah, sat up, and looked him in the eye. "You will always get us through this, Mac." She smiled slightly and said. "You always do."

Mackal looked at his love, marvelling at the ability her simple smile had in calming his emotions and reassuring him during the darkest of times. Pulling her close to him, he said, with a content smile. "We will get through this." With that, the couple drifted into a deep slumber.

* * *

The next morning was cold and misty, the seasonal frost hadn't struck yet, but you could feel winter waiting, like a cobra poised to strike. Mackal woke with a shiver as he stepped out of the bed. Something felt off about the morning. Birds weren't sounding their calls out in the treetops, and the wind hardly whispered. The air felt heavy and stagnant and carried the sharp bite of the nearing frost. Mackal shook his dark feelings off and grabbed his heavy cloak from the chest. Today was going to be a cold one. He stepped out of his bedroom and opened the door to his daughter's room.

"Sandra?" he spoke softly into the room "Would you like to go collect some wood with Daddy?"

The little girl threw back her covers and squealed in delight. "Yes! Can we go to Eladrin Woods, Daddy?"

Chuckling slightly to himself, Mackal replied "Of course, sweetie. We will go the long way if you wish."

Sandra gave a eager nod and rushed off to put her boots on and grab her little walking stick, just like Daddy's. Mackal smiled and followed his hyper child. The growing unease he felt in the air and in the pit of his chest didn't seem to affect the innocent girl. Mackal thanked the Gods for that mercy. It was only right that she is able to be a child for now.

The pair left the house after saying farewell to Sarah and promising to be back home before midday. Once they left the path, and began cutting directly through the woods, Mackay began pointing out things in the forest to his young daughter. The plants that would hurt her, and sting her, and the plants that would make the pain go away.

"You see this one, dear?" Mackay said, stopping and picking up a vine "This is Oniblossom. The seeds will help soothe any aches or cuts you may have, if you crush them. In fact, this is the first ingredient most alchemists put in healing potions."

"This helps owies?" Sandra asked, her eyes wide.

"Yes, this will help your owies." Mackal responded, ruffling Sandra's red hair.

Sandra grabbed her tiny knife for cutting cords and vines, one that Mackal had given her when she turned four, and cut the vine off, handing it to her father. "There!" she stated proudly "Now if Mommy has an owie, we can use this!"

Mackal smiled and took the vine from his daughter. "But you see, girl, the vine hasn't grown its seeds yet. You need to be patient until it blooms. Then you can use it to help owies."

Sandra furrowed her brow, thinking about what she was just told. "But now what do we do when we have an owie?"

Mackal kneeled in front of his child, while reaching into one of the many pockets of his cloak. "That is why, my dear..." ,he pulled out a vial filled with dark red seeds, "...you always have to be prepared."

"Yay! Daddy's smart! Now we can always help owies!" Sandra exclaimed, dancing around gleefully.

They resumed their trek walking through the mists, which seemed to be clearing as the day drew on. Mackal guessed it to be around 10 o' clock, by woodsman reckoning. As Sandra weaved back and forth along the rarely used hunter's trail, Mackal noticed she wasn't wearing her cloak.

"Sandra!" Mackal scolded. "What did I tell you about leaving the house without your jacket?"

"But I don't feel cold, Daddy!" Sandra protested, crossing her arms in front of her chest in a particular way that only a pouting 4 year old can manage.

Mackal sighed, and had to admit that she was right. In Sandra's short life, she has never seemed to get cold. It was last winter when the two of them were walking through a flash blizzard while trying to get back home, when Mackal noticed that Sandra, despite all the freezing rain pelting her face and clothes, was warm to the touch. Fearing a fever, the plague, or worse, they hurried home, only to find that her excess body heat had dissipated the minute they entered their home. Mackal admitted defeat, and huffed, feigning a harsh tone. "Fine, girl, but if you catch a cold, don't be expecting me to cook you up chicken soup!"

Sandra giggled and said. "You are so silly, Daddy!"

Mackal chuckled a bit to himself as well. For a four year old girl, Sandra picked up well on the nuances of human behaviour. '_That girl is going to do well in life' _Mackal thought to himself, and with a new sense of resolve he added. '_And dammit, I'm going to make sure she gets a good life, no matter what horror stories I hear._'

The father and daughter collected the wood from the Eladrin Woods and began to head home. Sandra had named the forest that Mackal had been retrieving wood from, and called it the Eladrin Woods because she was fascinated with the other races, especially the mystical and elusive Eladrin. A mindset like this was rare coming out of a human dominated small farming town, but Sandra was odd in so many ways. Mackal enjoyed being surprised by his daughter, and she always was finding new ways to surprise him. He was immensely proud of his little girl, and it would take one of the Gods themselves to take her away from him.

They returned to the house midday, as promised, with enough wood to warm the house for days. Days that were looking to be cold ones indeed. After eating lunch as a family, Mackal and Sarah decided that they would take a trip down to the village to see the bard that was rumoured to have stopped in town. This time, Sarah made sure that her daughter was wearing her cloak, because enchanted or no, she was still a mother and will thus worry like one. So the cloak went on. After that little disagreement was solved with the 'Mother's stare', the trio headed down the gently declining road that lead to the village. As they neared the collection of worksman shops and inns that marked the center of Rentervale, the feeling in Mackal's gut resurfaced. The quiet of the morning thus far was broken by a cry and a clash of steel. The village was under attack!

* * *

Mackal's heart was beating faster than it ever had before as he rushed into a nearby alley, the gap between the hunter shop and the leatherworkers, pushing his wife and child ahead of him. Once they found a alcove not visible from the street, he guided the two most important women in his life into it and looked back towards the road, a worried look in his eye.

"You two need to stay here. Sarah, stay safe and protect Sandra. You two are all I have." Mackal said, with a hurried tone as he gave each a kiss on the forehead.

Sarah protested. "But what about you? What are you going to do?"

"I can find out what is going on. Diffuse the situation. All those years at the Kings side will not be for nothing, and I'm going to do everything I can to protect you two."

Sandra looked around, confused. She looked up to her father, her eyes wide with fear. "Don't go for long, Daddy!"

Mackal knelt in front of his daughter and gave her a smile "I won't, girl. Now you be strong for Daddy, okay child? And here..." Mackal rifled around in his pockets "...take this. For any owies you or Mommy may have." He handed her a vial full of Oniblossom seeds.

"But what about your seeds, Daddy!" Sandra protested. "How are you gonna fix your owies?"

Mackal patted his cloak twice and simply said. "I'm always prepared. Remember child?" He gave Sandra one last kiss on her forehead, and kissed Sarah again before turning back towards the street. As Sandra watched her Father go, she was filled with a great sadness, but before it gripped her completely she whispered quietly to herself.

"I will be strong for Daddy..."

* * *

Mackal stepped out onto the street and immediately began walking towards the sounds, which had long since stopped being sounds of battle. Now they were simply moans, of sadness and pain. Mackal was unsure as to whether this was good or bad news. Mackal quickened his pace, and as he rounded the bend, the full scene came into view.

The villagers who lived in the main town center and the immediate outlying houses were gathered here, nearly 40 people, women and children too. They were gathered in front of several armed men, each had a dark steel ring insignia emblazoned on the front of their breastplates, and on their right shoulder pads. They stood in a semi circle, dividing the crowd from a single speaker, his malicious voice carried over the whimpers from the crowd.

"I will ask you again. Present any of your children that display abnormal abilities and we will be on our way. None of you will have to die." The man looked out at the crowd, his black eyes studying the masses with dark intent. The crowd remained silent, even the pained cries cut out for a moment. Just then, a man burst from the crowd screaming.

"YOU WILL NOT TAKE MY BETHANY!" He shouted, swinging his butchers knife haphazardly.

An armoured man drew a wicked black scimitar, and in a single, blurred flourish, severed the man's head from his body. The crowd recoiled, screaming at the loss of their countryman. The people clamoured, retreating to the perceived safety of the forest, when more steel clad men stepped out of the trees, wielding their dark scimitars menacingly. The screaming people stopped running and were herded back into the town center by the deadly looking mercenaries. Mackal looked on in horror at the scene that was unfolding in front of him, when suddenly, he was struck by a blow to the back of the head. Disoriented, with his head pounding, Mackal rose shakily and turned to look at his assailant. Two of the mercenaries stood behind him, the closest one holding a large axe and the one next to him brandishing a dark scimitar. The axe mercenary shoved Mackal towards the crowd, his only communication a wordless grunt. Mackal rubbed the back of his head, the aching headache not fading, and walked to the back of the crowd.

The leader of the mercenaries kicked the headless body with a boot, and said "You see now that we are not fooling around. You pathetic peasants will do as we ask, and we will move on from your village." The man studied the crowd more closely now. "I will ask the aforementioned 'Bethany' to step forward. Now."

A young, 13 year old looking girl, stepped out of the crowd, looking numb, tears reflecting off of her cheeks. She shook uncontrollably, as one of the mercenaries pulled her in front of the leader none too softly. Bethany looked up at the villainous man fearfully.

"Are you afraid of me, girl? You are right to do so. I am Nazin Redthorn, your master. I will soon control everything on this continent, and you are going to help me." He looked at the mercenary holding her in place. "Take her to the caravan, where the others are. I still have some more to do here." He finished, and looked over the crowd once more. "As you can see, I will not harm your child. They are vital to my cause. However I will not be afraid to harm you if you do not listen to what I ask."

Mackal avoided his sweeping gaze when a familiar cry broke the tense silence. A mercenary wearing a full plate helm dragged Sarah and Sandra up to Nazin.

"I found these two hiding in the alleys. And this one..." He shook Sandra, emphasizing his words. "May just be what we are looking for. She gave me a right burn, she did!"

Mackal gaped at his helpless wife and daughter. He controlled the urge to shout out, or rush forward and deck the man handling them, but only just managed to restrain himself. Nazin looked at Sandra, who was staring defiantly back.

"You, my girl, are special. I can feel it in the air around you. You will be very useful to me. Take her to the caravan!" Nazin whispered to the bold girl, shouting the last few words to the mercenary who brought the two in.

Mackal could restrain himself no longer and bolted out of the crowd, striking the man in the plate helmet in the slight chink in his neck armour. The man choked and was knocked to the ground, gasping for air, air that would not travel through his wounded neck. Mackal didn't go any further. A dark energy gripped his limbs, holding him in place and slowly constricting the air out of his lungs. Nazin walked up to Mackal, holding out a hand that glowed with the same dark energy.

"You are a strong man, peasant. Rare for such a backwards village." Nazin stared intently into Mackal's eyes, looking past the physical, seemingly reaching into the past with his gaze. "You were important once. But you gave that all up. For them, I suppose." He gestured at the women and child who looked on helplessly. "I despise those who give up power. But no matter. Death will not hurt you. The death of someone close to you, however, will."

Nazin smiled a horrible smile and drew a sickly black dagger, the perverse magic emanating from its dark metals. "Your daughter, perhaps..." He held the knife to Sandra's throat, who started to whimper, staring at her father with frightened eyes. Nazin whispered the next few words to Mackal alone. "She is simply a tool. Nothing more, nothing less. Do not fool yourself into thinking I will not kill her because I need her. Now, I will let you go. If you don't kill any more of my men, I will let you live. Because I am so generous... and because you amuse me."

The dark bindings holding Mackal in place released him, and he fell to the ground coughing. A thousand thoughts raced through his mind as he tried figured out a way out of this. All of his knowledge and experience could find none. He attempted to grasp the unimaginable horror of losing his daughter, but he knew that if she was alive, even in servitude, it would be better than her death. She deserved life. What she really deserved was a true childhood, but that reality was quickly slipping away. Mackal thought a moment longer. If she was taken by this Nazin, she would be kept alive, giving Mackal enough time to rally a rescue for Sandra and for all the children he took. Mackal stood up, grabbed his wife's hand and looked Nazin in the eye, with steely determination in his gaze.

"Fine, you bastard, but if you hurt her, I will personally make you experience the pain tenfold." Mackal growled at the man. Turning to his daughter, he then whispered. "Goodbye honey, your mother and I love you, and we will see each other again. Be strong for Daddy."

Sandra looked at her father with big fearful eyes. "I don't want to go with that man, Daddy!"

Mackal sighed, a sigh that held all the pain that has been heaped on him the past hour. "I'm so sorry, my child. You have to go with him, but it will be alright. Here, take this..." Mackal slid an chain off of his neck. At the end of it dangled a platinum ring. "It's the ring I received after I helped the king. Keep it and remember that we love you. Always remember this."

Mackal placed the chain over Sandra's neck. Sandra looked as though she was about to say something when Nazin walked over with a sneer plastered on his face.

"I hate to interrupt your tender moment, but my men and I are leaving your pitiful village." He grabbed Sandra's arm and pulled her along as he and his underlings began to file away from the village center. "I'll be taking your daughter. Do not worry, she will have a better life than whatever pathetic future she would have experienced in this backwater place."

As Sandra was being pulled away, she glanced back at her mother and father. She couldn't put together any words, and before she knew it, she rounded the bend and lost sight of them. Sandra looked down, tears starting to collect in her eyes, but she remembered what her father said '_Be strong Sandra._ _Remember we love you'. _She blinked away the tears and looked at her captor, Nazin Redthorn. He did not glance down at her, and wore dark red robes covered with patches of plate armour. As the group of mercenaries herded her along, Sandra began to wonder if she would ever see her parents again. She realized that thinking of this made the tears return anew and she shoved the thought into the back of her mind, closing her eyes shut tight. She kept them shut until she was picked up and placed in the back of a heavy wooden caravan. A few other children sat in the wagon, some looking down, others sniffling to themselves. Sandra didn't look at them long. She didn't know it at that time, but the coming years would be the most difficult she ever had faced, and would become a scar on her history that remained with her forever. Her training had just begun.


	2. An Adept's life

Sandra's Story- Chapter 2

Several years after she was taken from her parents, Sandra was dozing lightly in the barracks that served as her, and the other sorcerers, living quarters. The facility they were residing in was little more than an abandoned guard outpost that some goblins were squatting in a few months ago, but the Iron Circle mercenaries made short work of these monsters and Nazin and his company of men had been using it as a impromptu headquarters for nearly 2 months now. Sandra woke, thanks to a long since conditioned response. Her Keeper was coming to wake her. Sandra had been living and training with these mercenaries for 10 years now, and for the most part, it had been bearable. The men under Nazin's lead were greedy and loathsome, but often didn't apply themselves enough to make life excruciating for Sandra and the other Adepts that Nazin was fashioning into his own arcane task force. Sandra had been paired with her Keeper 2 years ago, after her exponentially increasing powers had necessitated a guard to keep her from lashing out, or losing control of her powers. A Keeper to hold her powers in check. Sandra's Keeper was a new recruit those 2 years ago and he was very kind in his treatment of Sandra. He was an older man, not yet middle age, but a hard life rendered his outlook permanently cynical. And above all he was lazy, which was a very good quality in Sandra's opinion. Sandra didn't stir, enjoying the last few moments of relaxation before her day began. She grabbed the chain that hung from her neck, and twiddled the ring that was attached to it. Memories flooded back, of her father and of home. Sandra sighed, and forced the memories back down. She did this daily now, remembering her father and mother, never letting them fade from her mind. Then, right on cue, Sandra's keeper opened the door to her Spartan room.

"Get up, and get moving. Nazin will withhold your meals if you don't get to your exercises this morning." Said the man wearing heavy plate, made of a special metal to absorb heat and magic. He jabbed her with the staff of cancelling he wielded whenever fulfilling his keeper role.

"I'm up, Clarkson." Growled Sandra, the jabs of the rod tingling every time they connected with her thigh. Despite the two's neutral relationship, Sandra never had a good outlook in the morning, especially at the crack of dawn, or as the case was, before the sun had even risen. Sandra swung her feet off the bed, tossing the covers off as she did so. Her nightwear consisted of simple cloth wraps, strips of fabric that twisted around her body like a mummy's binds. Yawning, she stepped up to her cupboard which held her sparse personal assets. She grabbed one of the dark red robes, the outfit of Nazin's adepts. Putting on the robe, she slipped into the climbing boots she was partial to. The classic footwear for adepts were robes and slip-on shoes, but Sandra needed to run around, to climb. The other shoes just didn't work for such things. Sandra walked out of the room, where Clarkson stood, his cancel staff slung over his shoulders.

"About time. Now get above ground, and start with your training." Clarkson grunted, jerking his head in the direction of the surface.

Sandra nodded, rubbing her eyes. She still had to look up to the Keeper, despite the man being only 5 foot 9. Sandra hoped she would grow more, and it was rather likely that she would. She was a young girl of 14, and hadn't really matured yet. Mentally, she was uncharacteristically advanced, but physically not so much. Sandra took one of the stairwells that lead to the surface, and attempted to tame her hair into less of a right terror. She pulled if back into a ponytail, making it more presentable. As she neared the dull light of the dawn, she took in a deep breath, taking in the smell of fresh dew and a recent rainfall. Sandra pulled the heavy door of the stairwell, and stepped into the morning, and the wild forest the stronghold was situated in. Glancing around, without really needing to, she found the main entrance to the compound, the proper opening to the wall. The stronghold, however, was old and suffered from extreme disuse. The wall that enclosed it all was crumbled in some places, and nonexistent in others. Sandra walked out through the heavy steel doors that were forever forced open, after the mechanism which opened them was destroyed by rust and goblin interference. Sandra's job was to fix this little problem. 'An exercise in arcane problem solving.' was how Nazin put it. Sandra stood in the great opening of the gate and cracked her knuckles preparing for the job ahead. She pulled a book of notes and arcane formulas, but before she began to read, she glance around the compound. It was dead this early in the morning, save for a few watchmen posted around the walls and the doors. The thing about hiring mercenaries was that, in peace time, you don't pay them to wake up early. Sandra shook her head, and looked back at her book. Finding where she left off last time, she began to chant, filling the air around her with power. As she spoke the words of power, she mused for a moment.

'_Force spells...' _She thought '_I hate force spells.'_

The arcane energies whirled and flowed and focused into fine lines, complex patterns which manifested themselves as glowing streaks on the ground. Sandra let out a breath, releasing all the energy she had grasped, and stepped back to admire her handiwork. The well trodden dirt glowed with a faint purple light, and vibrant lines of arcane energy formed circles and runes of pure power. Sandra allowed herself a moment to feel proud of herself.

'_While I may not like this school'_ She pondered quietly '_I'm pretty good at making it _look_ good_'

Sandra sighed when she finished looking at the focus she had inlaid into the dirt. The easy part was finished. The task that remained would truly be a test of her ability. Sandra took a deep breath, centered herself, and grasped at the energy of the arcane, pulling deep on its reserves. Immediately, she felt the energy lash out, whipping at her mind and at her senses, causing the world to grow dark. Sandra fought back the chaotic energies and directed it through the focus at her feet. This process went on for 15 minutes as she fought to gain control of the whirling energies, and will it to do her bidding. Once she had collected enough of it from the arcane realm, she hurled the insubstantial ball of energy at the door. Once it met the wooden portal, she shaped it into a hand, which gripped the door in its colossal fingers and pulled. The strain of the energy she controlled took nearly as much out of her as it would if she just tried to close the door with her own two hands. The pain made her head pound as the energy fought against her, even with all the help of her focus and will. The hand pulled and the door groaned, buried in the dirt and stone foundations in the compound. Sandra realized she couldn't maintain consciousness with this much power fighting her, and released it. The air around her rumbled and crackled as all the energy was let out, roaring like water from a broken dam, when it all was quickly silenced, leaving a eerie calm in the morning. Sandra gasped for air, realizing that she barely took a breath the entire time she duelled with the wild energies. Then the headache struck. It was as if her head was on the brink of exploding, and taking everything around her with it. Holding her head in her hands and rubbing her temples, Sandra sat to the ground, so as to not fall if she lost consciousness. As she nursed her throbbing head, Sandra thought on the true nature of her training and time here. This training truly was unorthodox. The few lessons they had mainly were to train them in theory or a new spell of some sort, but mainly they researched on their own and did work for the Iron Circle to strain and test their new powers. It was very dangerous, and this sort of mage training would never be seen in a real arcane university. '_But' _Thought Sandra darkly '_We aren't in a real university' _

Truly it was dangerous work. Two of the Adepts have already died from this training, one from dangerous research and experimentation, the other from pure strain and arcane backlash. Sandra distanced herself from the others at the compound. It made it easier if they died, and prevented them from stabbing her in the back. Sandra exhaled. The headache was fading, and she was going to have to find a solution to this gate problem before the sun was fully risen. Glancing over the hills to where it ascended, Sandra was greeted with a breathtaking sight; a sliver of the sun peeked over the horizon, alighting the sea of mist with brilliant gold light and washing the sky above with a vibrant glow. Sandra allowed herself a few moments to gaze at the sunrise and let the ache in her brain fade away. She rose and cracked her neck absentmindedly.

"I'm going to have to get creative..." Sandra muttered to herself.

Sandra set off to the tower that housed the mechanism to open this thing. The problem became instantly apparent. Weeds grew in the gears and machinery rampantly, jamming it, and the chain which pulled the gate closed was snapped where the rust was the worst. Sandra smiled and thought '_Now weeds I can deal with_' and cracked her knuckles before weaving her hands through the air, picking up the arcane fire with the elegant twists of her fingers. Sandra enjoyed fire more because it was like a dance. It required dexterity rather than sheer force to control, a fencers dance rather than an ogres lumber. The fire manifested itself on the tips of Sandra's fingers, blue white flame that burned with a special sort of heat. An arcane heat. With a deft flick of her hand, the flames were cast throughout the room, alighting everything in the room that burnt, and rendering it into a fine ash. The weeds were obliterated, but their remains littered the floor and the machine. Sandra clapped, summoning a great gust of wind and swept all the ash from the room. The Gate Room was clean again. '_Cleaner than its likely been for years, I bet._' Sandra thought, smiling slightly. Now for the chain. Sandra gathered the flame into her hand, and concentrated it into a singular ball of fire. She walked over to the snapped chain, threw away the useless rusted links, and pulled the two remaining ends together. She lowered the ball of fire, and using a careful combination of force magic and flame magic, she melted the iron links together once again. The molten metal was connected, but it still needed to be held in place while it cooled. The weight was not heavy, but the heat from the smelting job that took place not a foot in front of Sandra's face made her begin to sweat, and the spell holding the chain perfectly still was growing more draining, so she was quickly being sapped. Sandra held on, blinking away sweat from her eyes, focusing on holding those links. The period between when they were white hot to when they were once again solid metal felt excruciatingly long to Sandra. After what seemed like hours, the chain cooled again. Sandra released all the magic and collapsed, breathing heavily. The job was done, so she could rest. And rest felt like such a good idea at that moment. Nothing else mattered but a light nap to Sandra. So she drifted off into a exhausted sleep.

* * *

Before it seemed like a moment had passed, Sandra felt a metal staff poke her, rousing her from her slumber. Then she became aware of a sound, like a great amount of moving metal. Sandra snapped into consciousness, and remembered the machine she had just fixed. At least the sound meant that she succeeded. Sandra opened her eyes, and saw Clarkson staring back at her.

"Machine works. Nice job, Red." Clarkson said to Sandra. He called her Red whenever she did something helpful or worthy of praise. Sandra could never tell whether it was out of pride, or simply happiness that he wouldn't have to explain to Nazin why she didn't do what he asked.

"Thanks Clark." Sandra replied, rubbing her head as she got back up. "What time is it?"

"Sun just broke over the horizon." Answered Clarkson. "You were out for around 20 minutes."

"Alright. Should we get some food? This stuff exhausted me."

Clarkson threw a small sack at her feet. "Already thought of that. There is some bread and meat in there. Eat up and meet the rest of the Adepts by the south wall. I hear you have some more reinforcing to do."

Sandra picked up the pack and groaned. This would mean more force magic. A lot more force magic. Sandra found a suitable spot to sit and bit into her breakfast. This morning was going to be a long one.


	3. A Bound Soul

Sandra's Story- Chapter 3

It was two years after Sandra's work around the guard compound, and the run down abandoned stronghold was no longer run down, and Nazin's forces have grown in number considerably. A 16 year old Sandra was walking through the forest, having just gotten a rare pass to leave the compound, under the guise of an alchemical excursion. In a way, she _was _collecting ingredients, but they weren't for Iron Circle business. Sandra had been feeling down the last few months and decided to go out into the forest as soon as she could and look for a particular leaf that her father had shown her, many, many years ago. As she strolled through the forest, admiring its distinct beauty, Sandra reflected on the her life in the circle once again. It seemed that she was doing these sorts of nostalgic things more often now because, whenever she did, she felt that she kept the memory of her past alive, and kept from losing herself in this tense, slave like existence. In the past two years, Sandra had grown much more, physically and mentally. She was 5 foot 11 now, and had developed her womanly features. It was quite apparent that she wasn't going to be growing much more, and she still had to look up to all the huge soldiers around the compound. Mentally, Sandra had grown as well. She was smarter and more skilled in the arcane arts, thanks to Nazin's teachings. Nazin's teachings had killed 3 more Adepts, however, and Sandra was one of the lucky ones to make it this far in his unorthodox, dangerous guidance. Sandra had maintained her own self through all this strife, too. She still held the ring her father gave her around her neck, holding it every morning and remembering her parents. Sandra still, amazingly, had a sense of humour, and while it was much more cynical and dark than a normal girl's would be, Sandra embraced that side of her fully, desperate to keep any sort of individuality amongst the other mindless foot soldiers. Sandra put her introspection on hold and began to truly take in the forest around her, instead of looking at it blankly. The trees around her were mostly deciduous, and ferns carpeted the ground. There were hints of alpine elements to this particular forest, as it was situated in the foothills before one of the most prominent mountain ranges this side of the continent. Pine trees were dotted throughout the wood, interspersed between the more numerous broad leafed trees, but towering above its brethren. It was a beautiful day, and the green around Sandra soothed her. Remembering her task, she began to scour the forest floor, looking for the bush that held the tea leaves. Her eyes caught a wayward vine, with familiar blossoms on it. It was an Oniblossom vine, and Sandra was hit by a wave of memories that she didn't normally experience in her daily reflections. She dropped to a knee as her father's voice echoed through her head, and she remembered the feel of his coarse hands when he led Sandra through the forests of home. This wave of emotion preoccupied Sandra so fully that she missed the tell tale signs of someone sneaking up behind her. The twig snaps finally broke through to Sandra as the ambusher leapt from the underbrush, brandishing a very large claymore.

"Iron Circle Mercenary! I will never let you harm another innocent ever again!" Shouted the human attacker, a dark glint in his eye, and an intricate tattoo covering the most of his face.

Sandra yelped, and reacted out of pure instinct rather than thought. Fiery tendrils erupted from her hand and trailed behind them as they cut through the air towards the human. The flames connected with the human mid-jump, and he was sent flying into a tree, where he slumped to the ground, smoking slightly, unmoving. The world, which seemed to have slowed down for Sandra during this ambush, suddenly came rushing back to a normal speed, and reality came crashing down on her. The air smelt of burnt flesh and the forest was dead quiet, save for Sandra's ragged breathing.

'_Oh Gods!' _thought Sandra, nearly in shock from the encounter. '_Did I just kill someone?'_

A slight groan from the human belayed that concern, and Sandra rushed to his side, fearing the worst. However Nazin had affected her mentally, he never made her a killer. Heart pumping, head spinning, Sandra peeled off the ruined plate chest from the human, revealing the horribly burnt flesh beneath. The man's breathing was ragged and pained, causing Sandra to hyperventilate. '_No.' _She told herself resolutely. '_You aren't passing out right now_.' Sandra thought frantically. This man was in critical condition, and healing magic was reserved for the Gods, at least as far as she was taught. Suddenly, she recalled something her father taught her; '_This is Oniblossom. The seeds will help soothe any aches or cuts you may have...'. _Rushing back to the vine, she pulled out a knife from the back of her belt. Deftly carving out the seeds, and catching them in her hand, she rushed back to the man. Pulling out a vial of pure water, Sandra crushed the seeds into it, and shook it until the vial took on a deep crimson hue. With shaking fingers, she poured out the mixture over the now unconscious man. Once it was completely drained over the man's burnt chest, she crawled a distance away from the man, knees pulled up to her chest. She had no idea what to expect. Was he meant to get up, fully healed? Was the wound supposed to disappear before her eyes? Whatever she thought, nothing happened, and time passed in that small forest clearing. How much time, Sandra wasn't aware, but it was enough that she felt another presence approach. Clarkson stepped into the clearing, and following him were two Iron Circle mercenaries and Nazin Redthorn himself. Clarkson approached Sandra, and helped her to her feet. Nazin approached the unconscious body of the man and studied it as Clarkson spoke.

"You were gone for nearly 3 hours!" He chastised Sandra. "Nazin himself was on my case for your disappearance. Now you get the lovely job of explaining yourself to him, because I, for my damn self, will not."

Sandra walked over to Nazin, who was still inspecting the body closely when she drew near. Just as Sandra was about to speak, Nazin interrupted.

"It appears you were ambushed. And handled it well, considering." Nazin mused, not looking away from the man. Sandra managed a weak nod. "But it also appears that you tried to help the man you nearly killed. That is weakness." His voice gained some anger, all the while remaining smooth. He finally looked Sandra in the eye. "I detest weakness."

Before Sandra could respond to these accusations, or make a case for herself, Nazin formed a spear of corrupt energies and with a casual flick of his wrist, impaled the dying man with it.

"Death is a part of your life. You killed this man. I quickened it. The most your 'aid' did for him was extend his pain. Inexcusable." Nazin said coldly, all the while staring at Sandra.

Sandra began to shake as Nazin walked away from the scene, his two hirelings following him as he went. Clarkson stood behind Sandra as she fell to her knees. She looked at the dead man in front of her. Seeing death this close, death that she had caused, was horrifying to Sandra, the feeling was like bile in her throat. She began to cry softly, the true nature of her life lying in front of her, losing blood quickly. Clarkson put a hand on her shoulder and said, completely devoid of emotion.

"Come along, we need to get back to the compound quickly. I think Nazin will want to see you tomorrow, so you best get to bed as soon as we get in."

Sandra rose numbly, following Clarkson, but not really processing the scene around her as they walked from the forest, through the gates to the compound and finally to the bed that Sandra slept in. Nodding goodbye to Clarkson as he left, Sandra took off her robe, the dark red fabric smelling of death and smoke, stained with blood, and she threw it across the room. Collapsing into bed, Sandra had a restless sleep, a sleep which was going to be no help in the upcoming strain of what she was to face come morning.

* * *

Sandra awoke when she normally would, but not because of an incoming presence, but due to the lack of one. She rose, still exhausted from the previous day and due to the ineffectual sleep. There were no sounds coming from the hall, not even the plate of an incoming patrol. Sandra put on a fresh robe, and set off to the surface to investigate. She passed a few sombre patrols on the way up, and found the surface to be about as empty as it normally was before the sun rose. She remembered that Nazin wished to see her, so she started walking towards his quarters and study. She got to the entrance of the war room and Nazin's residence before she was stopped by Clarkson exiting, a genuine look of worry in his eye.

"Look, Red, Nazin wants to see you, but you best prepare yourself as best you can." Clarkson managed to get out. His concerned expression startled Sandra, as he was normally such a stoic man.

"Thanks Clark. I will prepare myself... somehow." Even as Sandra said this, she was not actually sure how she was supposed to prepare for something like this. She nodded to Clarkson as he said goodbye and departed, when Sandra realized with a start that she didn't even check her ring this morning. Fearing the worst, she felt around her neck for the chain that held it close to her at all times. Sandra let out her breath when she found the familiar metal. She clutched it for a moment, and recalled the moment where her father had asked her to be strong. '_I suppose that is the only way I can prepare for something like this. Be strong and hope for the best. I'll be strong for you, Daddy.' _She thought, before kissing the ring and slipping it back under the robes. She stepped into the war room and Nazin's quarters, taking a deep breath as she passed the threshold. When she reached Nazin's study, she found him looking over a heavy book, with all the tables and chairs of the large circular room removed. The reason Nazin needed all the room was that, on the stone floor of the study, a humming arcane circle was etched, glowing with a vibrant red light. Sandra had never seen an arcane circle glow with such a deep red hue, and she stepped cautiously around it, unsure whether to break the Iron Circle's leader's concentration. Nazin looked up after Sandra stepped closer, and smiled, which was unsettling coming from the dark magus.

"Sandra, you're early. This is good, we have a large task ahead of us." Nazin's smile was becoming disturbing at this point, and Sandra didn't know what to say to him. "You don't have to speak, don't worry, I don't need your voice. Now, you are a promising young adept, one of the best in my school of apprentices, and I have an opportunity to make you even more talented. You will take this opportunity." As he made that last declaration, a bit of the forceful, scowling Nazin shone through.

Sandra was taken aback, to say the least, by his cheery disposition and simply asked "What exactly are you talking about."

"Arcane experimentation. You will have mastery over fire not seen in a wizard before you. And you will serve me." He answered.

"What if I refuse?"

"As I said before, you are taking this opportunity." Nazin stated darkly.

Sandra saw that she had no choice, and Nazin was not the one to waste a resource so wilfully, so it couldn't be _all_ that dangerous. "Fine." Sandra muttered after a moment of thought. "What do I have to do?"

Nazin clapped, and moved swiftly to the only table left in the room. He motioned to the center of the arcane circle and said, while looking over some papers "Stand in the middle of the circle and face away from me, towards that wall, while I get the reagents together."

Sandra did as she was asked as Nazin set down candles at key points in the arcane circle until the closed off, dark study was alight with a dull candlelight, that mingled on the walls with the dark red aura. Sandra looked about nervously as Nazin put down a final item, a crystal that hummed and glowed with a red light, before her in a separate circle. Nazin stood back, looking at the setup with careful, analytical eyes.

After a few minutes of silence, Nazin spoke to Sandra, a dark glint in his eyes and an excited tone to his words. "I'm about to give you a gift of power. Know that I would not give this to anyone, so you should feel blessed for this wondrous opportunity."

Sandra could only nod as a nervous knot in her chest tightened and her throat constricted out of fear. Whatever this man was about to do, it was only a blessing through his eccentric eyes. Sandra swallowed, and calmed herself, reminding herself to be strong throughout whatever came next. She absentmindedly grabbed at the chain around her neck as Nazin stepped back behind his table, furiously scribbling notes.

"Now!" Nazin shouted, causing Sandra to jump at the unexpected sound. "We begin!"

With those words he held out a hand towards the crystal that hummed quietly before Sandra. It glowed with new life and the air above it began to shimmer and waver, as if from a great heat. And it was growing hotter in the room. Even Sandra's curious resistance to heat was not enough to stave off discomfort. The candles around her grew more violent as the fire from each began to wink out one by one with a burst, starting in the back of the circle. Nazin murmured and wrote down something on his desk behind all this chaos, and the final candle was snuffed out. The crystal was the only source of light in the study at this point, but it burned brightly, giving the room a dark red glow that pervaded every corner. It was all quiet now, save for the moderate humming of the crystal, and Sandra breathed in, preparing for Gods know what. Suddenly the air above the crystal ripped, light pouring out of the fissure in space. Heat struck Sandra, pushing her back slightly with a gust of wind that smelt of brimstone, fire and smoke. The portal to some elemental realm was no longer a rip and was a full doorway, the edges of which shimmered and smoked as the two realities crossed. Sandra gasped as the crystal shattered into dust and was pulled into the portal. A being of pure fire stepped out, measuring nearly 7 feet, the heat that radiated from it was unbearable, and Sandra found it difficult to breath. As she gasped for air, the being reached forward to grab Sandra where she stood, but was held back by a wall of red that shot up, containing him within the circle. Sandra looked around, and a similar barrier surrounded her circle as well. The Being paused, seeming to think for a moment. Nazin did nothing but watch at this point, all the while scribbling down notes. The Being finished thinking, and began to glow brighter, all the while diminishing in size. The candles around Sandra burst back to life and, when the elemental creature on the other side of the barrier finally grew too small to be seen, the final candle was relit. Sandra turned around, looking at these candles as a deep worry began to grow in her chest once again. Nazin was moving again, and as he approached the circles, the candles began to grow and twist in an intelligent manner. Nazin closed his eyes and concentrated, murmuring ancient words under his breath. The candle's fire weaved and twisted in reaction to these words, and when Nazin finished speaking, he thrust his hands out. The flames leapt from their fuel sources and collected once again, seeking to reform in its full power. Nazin motioned his hands in complex patterns, and the flame was frozen in a chaotic, twisting formless state. Sandra could only watch at this point, gripped with fear of what was about to happen to her. Nazin said a single word, in the human arcane language. Sandra recognized it as 'Bound' and just as she made this connection, the twisting form of flame collided with her chest. Sandra could only manage a scream as the flames raced through her body, not burning or singing her flesh, but simply expanding through her body, enveloping every extremity with the strange presence. The flame may not burn in the classical sense, but a new sort of pain was very real, and very unbearable. Sandra lost her vision, and there was only her mind and this alien presence that pervaded her consciousness. Once the elemental finished binding with her limbs and body, it moved towards Sandra's mind. She tried to fight its unearthly presence, but the pain had crippled her to the point of submission. The flame elemental's consciousness weaved through her mind, settling in the back, its thoughts like a quiet voice, always speaking to Sandra without using any words. They were violent, hungry and angry, the voice telling her to use her power to destroy, burn.

After a few moments, Sandra opened her eyes. This being was one with her right now, but she would be damned if it was going to have any say in what she did. Sandra's eyes could barely focus, and she brought her hands to try and inspect them. Orange tongues of fire licked her skin, calm and reserved, once again like a candles flame. Sandra groaned, her head pounding from the pain, the alien presence and the strain of containing its words. Sandra looked around at the study. The arcane circles had dissipated, and the portal to the elemental realm was no longer open. The candles were completely melted, the wax collecting in pools around Sandra. Nazin stood above her, inspecting her, viewing her as a specimen, a test subject.

"That went better than expected." He said simply. "The initiate who attempted that before you was burnt into a blackened husk before his body even accepted the elemental. It was as I said; you are special."

Sandra didn't reply, she was in shock about the ritual and the unnervingly calm aftermath. Looking down at her body, she found that she was no longer enveloped in flames, but she could feel them, just beneath her skin, ready to burst forth at her whim. The voice in the back had quieted down to a dull whisper, easier to ignore now that she had all her wits about her.

"You will be a very valuable asset to me now that you have this elemental bound to you." Nazin stated simply. "You will find that flames of any kind will bow to you. You are hardly human any more, either. You are more a halfbreed, far better than any mundane human will ever be." He said the last bit so casually, as if it was every person's dream to become inhuman. It was certainly Nazin's, who put power above all else.

"How... What..." Sandra could hardly put a question together, her mind was spinning from the event.

"Any questions you have will have to be saved for your training tomorrow. This ritual took longer than you imagine. It is already nightfall. Get to bed and rest. You will need strength for your new training. You have not experienced anything yet." Nazin said, ushering Sandra out the door, but refraining from touching her. Sandra was unsure if this was a good or bad thing.

As the door to the study shut behind her, Sandra walked out of the war room and Nazin's keep, heading for the barracks. Nazin had not been lying. The sun had sunk an hour or two ago, the brilliant stars in the sky casting off a cool glow on the forest below. Although it was a cold night, Sandra didn't feel any of it. She felt her arms and found them to be abnormally hot. Concentrating, she was able to diminish the heat she was actively giving off. Controlling this new entity would be difficult, Sandra knew this for a fact. As she walked, she absentmindedly flicked the flames on her hand on and off. This was easier than ever before, and as she did so, her arm tingled as the entity did its work. She no longer had to call on arcane fire from the elemental realm. She had that within her very body. The power excited her, but it also frightened her. '_How will this power change me?' _ She wondered, furrowing her eyebrows as she thought. She barely realized that, during all this thought, she had made it to her quarters. Just before she got in bed, she was hit with a wave of guilt and nausea, as she remembered the man she murdered the day before. It was shoved into the back of her mind due to all the chaos of the day, but now that it was calm once again, the pain and regret returned. Sandra thought, while looking at her hand '_Will this power make killing easier? Will it change me into a murderer?' _ With that unsettling thought, Sandra fell into a nightmare infested sleep.


	4. Fury of the Flame

Sandra's Story: Chapter 4

The 5 years following that arcane experiment were gruelling for Sandra. Nazin's 'gift' to her only caused him to expect and ask more of the young mage. The training was still as difficult as always for the other Adepts under Nazin's care, and three more had died because of it. Death became less of an issue for Sandra, now more a fact of life. Sandra's power had flourished over the years, and she was close to being a master in flame magic, thanks in no small part to the fire elemental that was now bound to her body. Nazin's forces, too, have garnered more power and land, the compound Sandra had lived in for years now a veritable stronghold. Nazin finally put his plan into action not one week ago when he, and his entire army of mercenaries, traveled to the valley of Harkenwold, and its capital city of Harken. Nazin was intelligent about his assault; He had a small business running there which offered mercenary services to the townsfolk and when the rest of the army attacked the city from the outside, the small band of mercenaries crippled the guard and killed the mayor before they even knew they were under attack. Sandra had seen none of this. She was assigned to a flanking unit as the arcane supplement, a unit that was to act as cavalry if the village put up more of a fight than expected. No such fight was put up however, and Sandra soon found herself in the Iron Circle-run village with nothing to do.

As Sandra wandered the village, she felt a small pang of guilt when she saw the haggard faces of the citizens there. Frowning, and thinking about what she really was doing in this village, a sudden shout broke through her introspection. Sandra looked up and saw a low level mercenary quickly approaching, sprinting through the crowds of dejected people.

"Adept!" He shouted again, waving slightly to get her attention.

"Yes, what is it? You realize you don't have to alert the whole village in order to talk to me, right?" Sandra replied, mildly annoyed by the sudden intrusion.

"Well, Nazin sent me to find you. Said he had some work for you to do." The mercenary responded simply.

Sandra nodded and made haste towards the new headquarters of the Iron Circle mercenaries, the Iron Keep. Previously the housing for government and guard work, the Iron Keep was quickly reformed into a military building, reinforced with watchmen, archers, and even the heavy gate was drawn closed. As Sandra waited for the gatekeepers to open the portal just enough for her to squeeze in, Sandra cursed Nazin for closing the gate all the way in a time where no attack was imminent. The man was ambitious, power hungry and neurotic, three mental tendencies one often finds together. The gate finally opened enough for Sandra to slip in, so she entered the Keep proper. Several more guardsman stood at the entrance to the war room, and they nodded and opened the doors at Sandra's approach. The war room was darkly lit, heavily contrasting the bright day outside. Nazin was overlooking a map when Sandra stepped into his presence. He glanced up and met Sandra's eyes.

"Sandra, I'm glad you are here. I need you to perform a simple duty before our next push on the town of Albridge." He said, looking back at the map and furrowing his brow. He often did multiple things at once, and Sandra had no doubt he was formulating a complex battle plan as he spoke to her.

"Alright. What will you have me do?" Sandra replied, brushing some of her wavy red hair from her eyes.

"The outlying farms... here..." Nazin motioned towards pins on the map "...and here have been resisting Iron Circle control despite being under the jurisdiction of this town. Take care of them will you?"

Sandra swallowed nervously. Nazin had never asked her to deal with people before. What did he mean? Was she to intimidate them? Kill them if they didn't comply? None of those options sounded very appealing to Sandra. She still got a knot of guilt whenever she thought of the man she killed all those years ago. Suddenly she realized that Nazin was staring at her, waiting for a response.

"Oh, uh, yes sir, I'll get right on that." Sandra uttered hastily before nodding to her superior and ducking out of the room. Once she was clear of that dark, candle lit room and back into the sunlight of Harken, Sandra shivered, took a deep breath and calmed herself. '_Well I won't kill them, or hurt them. This much I know.' _She thought quietly to herself. '_At least this way I can make sure that none of Nazin's forces try anything with the defenceless family.' _With that positive thought in mind, Sandra walked down the well trodden dirt road to where the rest of the soldiers were staying. She would need a group to accompany on her, just as a formality.

Sandra grabbed a few recruits for her physical back up. The new recruits seemed the least jaded, and the most morally sane of Nazin's forces, so they suited Sandra perfectly. After collecting her entourage, Sandra set out towards the farmsteads marked on her map. There were only two farms that were resisting Nazin's rule, and Sandra felt a bit sympathetic to their cause. She had no love for her master, either. But she knew that if she could get them to submit peacefully, Nazin wouldn't order them killed or enslaved like her. Nazin didn't ever go out of his way to be a harsh man, he was simply ambitious and regarded the people who he has power over as little more than tools to enact his plans.

She mulled these facts over as she walked the road towards the farms in silence, her entourage following at a slight distance. Snapping out of her thoughts, she glanced around, checking once on the soldiers behind her. They looked about the landscape lazily, wearing light chainmail, their weapons yet in the hilts. The day was beginning to get hot as they pressed on, and Sandra felt the elemental beast bound to her revel in the increased temperature. She fought the urges down. The last thing she needed today was this thing fighting to enact its will, its presence reduced to a slight throbbing in her head. Despite the great heat, Sandra felt little discomfort in her heavy wizarding robes, which had received an upgrade since they started marching as an army. The classic dark red fabric with the iron circle logo weaved into its sleeve and back was still there, but heavy leather pauldrons and bracers added extra protection in this time of war.

Sandra smoothed out some ruffles where the cloth had gathered under the hardened leather, and noticed a barn drift into her vision as they rounded a bend in the road. The farmstead certainly had seen better days. The ground was dry and brown, no fresh produce grew yet, even though it should be the season for it. The farmhouse was run down, and in a state of disrepair, shutters lay on the ground rather than on the windows they were made to cover. Very few animals ran about, and the ones that did looked malnourished and sickly. Sandra sighed once again, knowing that these farmers plight had only just begun.

A threatening sound caused Sandra to spin around quickly, but she realized that it was simply the metal ringing of swords leaving their scabbards. The rookies looked about for any possible dangers, but Sandra knew that they would find none here. This was just a broken family, not an ambush. She would have sensed an ambush coming if it had been one, the only rampant emotion she felt here was hopelessness. Whether that was due to her arcane intuitiveness, or the general melancholy of the place, she could not tell. Turning back to the farmstead, Sandra walked to the door where the family would be staying. She was not looking forward to this.

Knocking three times, Sandra stood back, silently telling the soldiers to stand back and at ease. After a few moments, the door opened a crack.

"What do you want?" A voice asked, laced with more despondency than hostility.

"Hello there, I represent the Iron Circle." Sandra said, trying to find a maternal note, "I need to talk to you for a moment. May I come in?" After she finished speaking, her headache returned in a wave of pain. Fighting back the black, Sandra shook it off, and forced the pain to the back of her mind.

The door remained motionless for a second, then finally swung open. An older man stood in the portal, looking to be 50 years of age. With a flash of memory, Sandra remembered her own father.

'_I can't think about this_ now_!' _she thought rapidly, and with great difficulty she managed to fight back the stinging nostalgia. The headache throbbed with renewed vigour.

"I suppose so…" the broken man stated, leaning on his walking stick, "What can you take from us, truly?" he added with a dark humour, swinging his arm out at the depressed landscape outside.

Sandra nodded to the man as she stepped inside, and out of the sun. With a wave, she motioned to her entourage to stay outside. They would just complicate matters. Her eyes took a moment to get used to the dark interior, and she found, with a silent cry of grief, that the inside brought back even more memories of her childhood.

The older man passed her, calling back to her, "Come along into the living quarters so we can get this dreadful business finished with."

Sandra went with him, sitting down on a worn chair, one of a semi circle of furniture. The older man sat down opposite her, and sighed wearily. A woman, middle aged as well, appeared in one of the doorways to the back rooms. She said nothing, but her worried look towards her husband said much more than any words could. Sandra painfully recalled her own parents. The throbbing worsened. The older man offered her a glass of water in a stone cup, and Sandra accepted it gladly.

"We should get to the point as quickly as we can. Whatever you want from us, you may take, but the quota we were given by some of your 'soldiers'" he emphasized the last word with biting sarcasm, "is just impossible. My name is Demitri, by the way."

Sandra nodded knowingly. Nazin asked much of those under him. "It's nice to meet you Demitri, my name is Sandra. And I understand that the Iron Circle's demands are taxing and over the top, but the only way you can keep this farm is if you follow it the best you can. If not, they will take you to the work camps, or worse, the militia."

Demitri nodded, her words looked to have no affect on his already slumped demeanour. "If you can extend the deadline, or forgo it for double the output next year, I will be able to meet it. The fields just weren't singing right this year. It's a late bounty, and looking to be slim, to add to it all." He finished, looking at his wife and added. "Check on Cindy, love."

Sandra's head was swimming at this point. The headache was pressing on her skull with so much pressure that it was liable to explode, and her elemental was taking the chance to rampage within her being, spreading his dark will and agenda. The words 'burn' and 'decimate' echoed in her brain, followed by the pure emotion of fire and destruction. Sandra was about to respond when a little girl ran into the room to embrace her father. Sandra met eyes with the little girl and saw defiance, fear, loyalty and a determined courage. She saw herself. Sandra dropped the stone cup to the floor as she lost control of her hands, and began shaking violently. The cup shattered with a loud crash on the ground, but Sandra didn't hear it. Darkness began to overtake her vision, and Demitri got up rapidly, picking up Cindy as he did so. As her vision became completely enveloped in black, she heard some more muffled crashes before it all cut out. All that remained in the black was Sandra and the Elemental. They locked eyes in this ethereal plane, and Sandra felt the normal emotions she sensed emanating from this beast of destruction, with a curious addition; the elemental was smug, gloating to Sandra wordlessly. Sandra screamed when she realized his intentions and ran as quickly as she could towards him, to stop him, grapple with him, something! But as her fingers groped for the flame spirits arm, he exploded, overtaking her entire vision in flame. For once in the long period of being bound to this demon, she felt extremely, unbearably, hot. Then it all winked out as she lost even the ability to think. She did not dream in this perverted slumber, and awoke to a truly hellish scene.

* * *

Consciousness came back to Sandra slowly. It was surreal, reality and hallucination mixing together in a muddled way, and Sandra's hearing was the first to re-emerge from the black of unconsciousness. The sounds were, at first, dull and devoid of sense, but they began to become crisp, clear, and woefully evident in their nature. The unbridled roar of fire clashed with Sandra's eardrums, threatening to send her back into the blackness that she came from, but Sandra fought through it to witness the full horror around her. The rest of Sandra's sense came in a jumbled mess, but when she was able to truly make sense of what was happening around her, her breath caught in her throat.

The farm house burned, angrily and hungrily, an intelligent fire razed this house to rubble, the source of which was all too apparent. Sandra immediately began to search for the presence of the elemental within her mind. She found it easily, the beast did not even try to hide or fight as Sandra forced it into the back of her mind. Sandra gleamed a mixed emotion of the sated beast, and the smug peon. The spirit was taunting her, and she tasted bile in her throat. Once she regained full control of her mind once more, she surveyed the damage in full. She stood, hunched and coiled like a predator, her arms curled into dagger like visages, wreathed in flame. Sandra extinguished the flames at once, and looked around, straightening herself as much as her tired body would allow. The remains of the farm house was a blackened and still burning mess, the only thing that stood more than waist height was the remains of a wall far behind where Sandra stood. The flames ravenously eating at the building died off once Sandra's will fell like an anchor, her arms slumping down to her sides. She fell to her knees, ignoring the painful cuts the blackened rocks inflicted upon her. After staying like this for what seemed like hours, Sandra finally felt a presence approach her. She turned.

It was a young recruit, one of the soldiers she brought along for muscle. He looked terrified and nervous to be approaching the Adept, and rightly so, after whatever ungodly acts he had just witnessed at the hands of a demonic elemental. He spoke up after glancing down at his boots, avoiding Sandra's gaze.

"Should I take the family back to the village, Ma'am?" He asked, a noticeable stutter in his voice. "Will you join us, or do you wish to remain here?" He was desperately looking to be away from Sandra. Sandra wondered what manner of beast she turned to when she blacked out. Then, something the recruit said finally got through to Sandra, and she straightened up, turning to face the young soldier.

"Did you say 'take the family'?" Sandra asked, with a forcefulness that caused the young man to take a step back, and swallow before responding.

"Yes Ma'am, the family is ready to be taken back to the village to earn their keep in Nazin's nation."

Sandra looked away from the soldier. '_Good… that means that I didn't… murder them.' _She then realized, with a stab of guilt. '_But I did sentence them to the work camps…' _Sandra shook her head, willing the horrors away. She would look after them, somehow. The most important thing was that they were alive, and her darker host did not heartlessly end them. Sandra glanced back at the soldier, and realized, with a start, that he was waiting for a send off.

"Right, uhh, take the family with their wagon and go on ahead. I will catch up in a moment." Sandra glanced at the sun."And I will meet you when you make camp. It's far too late to make it to Harken at this point…"

The soldier nodded and quickly retreated, grateful for the chance to be away from the intimidating woman who recently was as aflame as a harvest day bonfire. Grateful for the moment alone, Sandra realized that it seemed like it had been days since she last slept, and a wave of darkness crept into the edges of her vision. Bracing herself on a fence post that no longer completed an entire enclosure due to years of neglect, Sandra shook away the dizziness and nausea. The guilt remained.

'_I am slowly going insane. Or losing myself to this monster. As if either outcome would be any different in the slightest. How can I possibly fight this when there isn't a single person I can trust, or even talk to?' _Sandra continued this train of thought until the light from the sun had all ebbed away, like a passing tide. In the cover of darkness, like many other thoughts of its kind, a spark, an idea of rebellion formed in Sandra's mind. She would make it up to those she hurt in this crusade, those she… killed… Sandra simply had to find the right time to act.


	5. Change in Company

Sandra's Story- Chapter 5

It was several weeks after the incident at the farmhouse, and Nazin's armies had attacked the town of Albridge, prematurely. Nazin had not mustered the sheer numbers his plan called for, and in a rare display of outright folly, Nazin attacked. He assumed the town would be as easily crushed as Harkenwold, even without the surprise the first assault had the benefit of. When Sandra witnessed the act, she wondered how Nazin could have made such a error, him being such a calculating man, never assuming or acting rashly. Was it due to his recent newfound obsession in black magic? A study that promised power, and to a man so addicted a few simple spells would not satiate his hunger. Nazin desired true, unconquerable power. Or perhaps the stress was getting to him, having to work on an agenda such as this. Nazin was seen leaving his room after long sessions with the shadowy figure orchestrating the entire operation. That figure is the only man (or demon) that could inspire fear in the mercenary lord's eyes. Whatever the cause, the assault failed, and the Iron Circle was left in an embarrassing situation; the men available to them was enough to hold Harken and the outlying farmsteads, but not enough to overtake their troublesome neighbour, Albridge. It was like a Bard, who amateurishly fumbled on stage and blurted out the punchline halfway through the joke, and stood there blankly before being heckled offstage. So the two forces were left awkwardly close, but painfully unable to do anything about it. And to make matters worse rumours were circulating about a band of adventurers who had wandered into the fray, on the side of the rebels of Harkenwold. Their presence infuriated Nazin, and he sent out patrols and armoured units to bring them in, get information on them, anything, but to this day nothing was produced.

The adventurers, wealth and glory seekers who cause legendary troubles for would be tyrants, were the reason that Sandra was called into the courtyard of the Iron , along with a squad of Cutthroats and a Drake rider, awaited the instructions of their leader.

He appeared above them all, on the wall where sentries make their rounds, and began his speech simply. "I want them dead. You all know who I speak of. Those that allegedly took out the necromancer in the woods, and the toadlings in the west, and those that have been leaving the HEADS severed from the bodies of MY MEN all over the VALE!" He punctuated his words with a thud of his staff, his voice growing hoarse and ragged. "There is only one road for them to take. You will set up in some of the abandoned farm sites, setting a fire to attract their insect like little brains. I want to see their blood in a week. If not, I will see yours. Dismissed!" He turned away sharply, his robe trailing behind him lazily as he retreated into the tower which now housed his study.

Sandra turned to the left, and marched out of the courtyard, waiting until the entire company emptied out onto the hill outside before turning and addressing them. The men were battle hardened, steely eyed, and closed mouthed.

'_Wonderful.' _Thought Sandra. '_Great travel company.'_

"Alright, listen up, we are to hunt down this adventuring party. Not much is known about them, but its estimated to be the standard group; 4 strong, with muscle, stealth, healer and magi. Extraordinarily tough to kill, but we will waylay them where they don't expect it, and finish them before they even draw their weapons. We have superior numbers, we know that for sure. Remember to focus on the damagers first, the rest are just metal plates with targets on them. Let's move out. We can make the farm by sundown." All Sandra received at the end of her speech was a unified nod. Inwardly, Sandra groaned.

'_What a joy this will be._' She thought sombrely, as she followed the unit.

* * *

They reached the farm quickly, and made a simple camp behind the houses. Sandra rolled her eyes at the soldiers dedication to the road, to their spartan lifestyles, as she took one of the master bedrooms in the farmhouse. Slipping off her hiking boots, Sandra relaxed into the down filled bed, and gave her whirling thoughts a moment to fly free. She was admittedly worried about these adventurers. These were the men and women who rid evil from the world and, as much as she didn't like it, she served a decidedly evil force. Her thoughts on the heroes of legend and myth brought her thoughts back to home, and the stories her Dad used to tell her about adventurers, and his personal escapades in his younger years. Sandra gave a slight smile to the thoughts of those she loved, the only she ever loved in this world, and began to feel sleepy. Sandra had been bound in servitude for so long, she forgot to feel for other people, instead only displaying a cold exterior to those that may either simply betray her, or die the very next day. It was a safer life, but it was hardly a happy one. Her doubts and wishes brought her back to thinking about the adventurers she was soon to fight. Certainly they were free? Perhaps the perfect time to escape Nazin's clutches was in the company of those that had given him the most trouble? But how would she ever get them to believe her, and how would she ever be free of the contingent of soldiers she was sent with? Adventurers were tough, but they stood a fair chance of losing this battle, and that outcome scared Sandra. More plagued by troubling questions now rather than thoughts, she reigned in her overactive mind, and fell into a weary slumber.

* * *

The next morning, she woke to shouts of alarm and of preparation. Rushing outside after putting on her robes, boots and placing an enchanted blade in her belt, she was informed that travellers were spotted heading this way, and they looked heavily armed. Nodding, Sandra ordered the men into position. The Drake was to stand front and center on the highway, with several soldiers standing on either side. Sandra was deployed a little back, in the forest, with a single Cutthroat guardian. A small strike force was assembled in the lower level of the farmhouse, and was ready to charge the adventurers' ranks, to riddle them full of crossbow bolts, the minute they were distracted by the Drake. Having done all the preparation they could, the unit waited until the telltale jangling of armour with rhythmic clinks of weaponry was heard round the bend. A few moments later, the party came into view, as heroic as the rumours suggested. At the far right was a Dragonborn, donned out in plate armour which rivalled the beauty of the natural scales he had underneath, which was gold as a glittering coin. The next over was an elf, who stood proud and tall wearing the leathers and greens his race was so famous for, a bow of deadly elegance slung over his back and a scimitar as dark as a moonless night at his hip. The next adventurer was a stout dwarf, who looked as immovable as rock, and as tough as steel. He held a heavy tankard in his hand which could break jaws and a hammer which could shatter iron. The final party member was a regal looking elf, one that walked with an air of the fey. Sandra suddenly remembered this race; he was an Eladrin, from the fey wild, the race she was so fascinated by as a child. She had only heard about the arcane touched elves in stories, and to see one in real life was dazzling. The Eladrin wore a cape that was filled with pockets and compartments, and as it flapped in the breeze, two wicked daggers could be seen on the Fey Elf's belt. Sandra suddenly realized that all this time she was inspecting the trio, the Drake rider had begun his speech that was embedded in the soldiers mind with dark magics.

'_Typical. Even when he isn't physically here, he finds a way to talk…' _Sandra thought sardonically.

Sandra then realized that the speech was meant to distract them as the strike team got into position for the surprise attack. She was about to shout out when she caught herself.

'_How were you going to hide that, Sandra?' _She chastised herself. '_Save that for a time when you aren't surrounded by those that would kill you for such words. And hell, the adventurers would likely kill me anyway.'_

It seemed that her intervention was entirely unnecessary, however, as the Elf shared a short look with the Eladrin, completed with a short nod. The Drake Rider was wrapping up his windy speech, the signal for the soldiers to launch the sneak attack, when suddenly, the Eladrin winked out of existence. A scant few moments later, screams pierced the morning air from inside the farmhouse, screams which were cut short violently. One of the soldiers in the strike team was sent hurtling out the window, still shouting as if it would help him, when his parabolic journey was ended prematurely by the Elf's blade. Sandra didn't even notice the Elf drawing the weapon, or striking at the flying Cutthroat. Before the blood, or the mercenary, hit the ground, the Elf sheathed his weapon once more and drew his bow in a fluid motion, letting loose an arrow towards the tree tops. Sandra witnessed the projectile sail through the air and out of sight, with a thud and a cry, as a lifeless body fell at her feet, tumbling from his post above. Sandra suddenly wasn't sure whether she should feel elated or frightened. The rest of the company likely felt the second option as the Eladrin stepped out of the house casually, covered in blood and holding his daggers back grip. The Adventurers began to walk forward when the Drake Rider regained his composure.

"CHARGE YOU LOUTS!" He screamed at his unit. Sandra noticed that her guard had disappeared somewhere into the forest.

'_Damn coward'_ Sandra spat. '_Although, can I blame him?'_

The Drake made the best time towards the heroes, when the Dragonborn rushed ahead and broke formation, making a beeline for the Drake and Rider. The reptilian humanoid bellowed something in Draconic at the Drake, and astonishingly, the lizard stopped dead. The Rider, however, did not. He continued his journey, flying off the saddle and over both the Drake and Dragonborn, only stopping with a sickening crack when he met the stone wall of the farmhouse chimney. He did not move again. The Dragonborn continued to talk to the Drake with a calm eloquence that emulated monk-kings, ignoring the skirmish that was erupting just ahead of him between mercenary and adventurer.

The Dwarf and Eladrin forged on ahead, while the Elf drew back, nocking two more arrows before taking careful aim at his adversaries. Steel met steel several yards ahead as the Dwarf and Eladrin both took on two fighters at once, dodging and parrying blows like their foes were invalids rather than battle hardened warriors and slashing back with considerable fury. Attacks landed on both sides of the fray, but after only seconds of battle, the mercenaries were certainly looking worse for wear. The Dwarf delivered a overhead blow with his hammer at one of the Cutthroats, which whistled as it cut through the air, and caved in the soldiers skull with a sickening crunch. After receiving their first close and personal loss, the mercenaries began to fall back, sacrificing power for defence, bravado for survival.

Sandra was so involved in the fight taking not 15 feet away, that she nearly missed the hulking Dragonborn, which slinked in from the side and was delivering a blow directed towards her neck. Cursing, Sandra leapt back, away from the deadly arc, but not quickly enough. The Dragonborn corrected his attack midswing and caught Sandra in a glancing swipe. Pain shot through Sandra's shoulder, sending shooting agony up and down her arm. Sandra landed clumsily, directing her attention partially to the gash in her shoulder, but mostly to the terrifying Dragonborn that loomed ahead of her. The wound in her arm seemed to burn, more from an inner fire than outer injury, and she witnessed the flow of blood ebb and disappear entirely. Only partially blackened flesh remained, cauterized by her inner fire. Sandra saved the marvelling over her new, unique quality for later, and focused instead towards staying alive. The fire within her screamed at her for blood, for equal recompense, but she resolutely forced them down, forming a plan as she did so.

The Dragonborn ahead darted once more, the axe at its side promising another wound to match the first. Sandra didn't allow it to get so far as flame burst out of her hands, forming into deadly plasma whips. She shot her hands forwards, whips following right behind, and raked the two burning weapons across the warrior's face, distracting him for a bare moment as he covered his eyes and yowled in pain. Seizing this chance, Sandra sprinted towards the skirmish, seeking protection in her few remaining soldiers. For if this Dragonborn was any indication of the party's approachability, Sandra's opportunities for parlay were slim to none.

'_Still'_ Sandra thought rapidly. '_it would be nice'_

Reaching her comrades, Sandra was going to plan, to figure out a way out of this battle and on a larger scale, out of this life. Her thoughts were rudely interrupted as she heard the metallic hoofs of riders hastily approaching. A chill crept up her spine as she identified the noise.

It was Nazin's Elite.

Sandra had witnessed these soldiers dark power once before, and she did not believe they were, or ever even had been human. Where glints of eyes should lie, pools of nothingness exist. They kill without a thought or a word, and witnessing this horror of Nazin's creation made Sandra ever thankful for her continued humanity after being subject to the same dreadful man.

The skirmish around her finished as the final mercenary dropped to the ground with a grunt and a whimper. The adventurers around her still remained oblivious to the approaching danger, and cautiously drew nearer to the frozen fire mage. Sandra looked around slowly, seeing the heroes brandish their weaponry. Even the Dragonborn had recovered and began advancing, a scowl that could kill plastered on his face. The procession was cut short as the hoof steps rose to a deafening level and the two armoured elites rode into the battle zone, behind the Eladrin, Dwarf and Elf. The three spun around finally acknowledging the danger that approached. The elites stepped off their mounts with agility not befitting their heavy black armour. The three ahead of Sandra shared a look, and after a slight pause ran towards the new threat. Attack after attack was repelled by the Elites quick bladework, and arrows simply bounced off their armour. Undeterred, the heroes pressed on, not gaining any ground, but neither losing any in the flurry of slices and the cloud of steel.

Sandra did not allow this battle to distract her again, and turned to the Dragonborn while drawing her blade, a single fluid motion. The Dragonborn stopped suddenly, seeing the determination in the mage's eye, and instead began strafing, eyeing for any potential openings.

'_Dammit!_', Sandra silently cursed, '_Even if I did want to kill this man, I don't think I could with this weapon. Defensive fighting is going to be damn impossible against an axe like that._'

As the two circled, performing their tense battle of wills and patience, the battle beyond them raged ever on. The Elf and the Dwarf had singled out the leftmost Elite, leaving the Eladrin to contend with the last warrior. He held his two blades in a defensive stance, dancing around and redirecting attacks where he could, jumping backwards where he couldn't. Sweat beaded on his forehead after the third sure strike he threw was repelled with ease.

'_Damn you to the chaos!' _The Eladrin fumed, '_I had him there! How strong is this bastard?'_

The first blood of the showdown was drawn by the dark plated behemoth, as a strike was suddenly whipped around midswing, changing directions and catching the Fey Elf along the chest, cutting through leather and belt, drawing blood, thick and fast. The pain was nothing new to the adventurer, but the Eladrin hissed, and clenched his teeth in anguish. He was being whittled down, in body and spirit. Looking over to his companions for aid, for a chance of respite, his search was fruitless as he realized they were several more feet away from him than when they started, caught up in their own battle. The Eladrin looked back towards his foe in time to repel a downwards strike that should have cleaved him in two. Stepping back twice, he fell back into a survival tactic. But for how much longer would this prove effective?

Back at the battle between the Dragonborn and the fire mage, the mental prodding of defences had concluded, and the Dragon instead threw blow after blow at the mage, who danced around desperately, only barely avoiding each attack. A close upwards cut left a light scrape on Sandra's face after she failed to pull back enough and payed for it in blood. In her furious scouring for a plan or a way out, Sandra spotted the Eladrin get struck by the Elite's broadsword, the blood spraying in the morning air, and a plan formed in her mind.

'_My only way out now is to prove to these adventurers that I don't want to hurt them. But this one doesn't seem to be in the mood to talk.' _Sandra gave one last look around before she thought resolutely. '_Luckily, actions speak louder than words.'_

Dodging a haphazard blow from the Dragonborn, Sandra conjured up fire from the elemental chaos, and directed towards the Elite harassing the Eladrin, forcing all her fury and power into landing the strike. Flame laced down her shoulder and grew in size and fury until it burst out towards the armoured aberration. The Elite expected no fire this skirmish and was caught completely by surprise as the bolt of white hot flame enveloped his being. An inhuman scream echoed from the armour, as if from deep inside the metal confines. The Eladrin was frozen by this new turn of events only shortly, before he recovered, and with a short yell, directed both his blades at the rider's neck. With the sound of metal wrenching metal apart, the blades completed their mortal journey, and the headless flaming body stood for several long seconds before slumping over on the ground, to join the helmeted head.

Sandra smiled to herself, glowing arm yet held out, feeling elated at her first real act of rebellion, of breaking free of Nazin's hold. A grin began to grow across her features, reflecting the pure joy growing in her gut, an emotion not felt for so very long, when a new sensation ripped through her. Her arm erupted in pain, unlike any she had ever felt in her life. She wanted to scream but found no release in its cry, as only a agonized whisper escaped. Adrenalin slowed the scene around her to a painstaking crawl. The Dragonborn's axe had taken a deadly swing as she was invested in her victory. With a sharp intake of breath, she witnessed the gravity of her injury. Her shoulder ended in a bleeding mess, and her arm was nowhere to be found. Sandra found she could not breath, that she could not move, only stay frozen and watch as the blood-flow from her arm slowly receded as fire cauterized her wound before her eyes. The crippled mage fell to her knees, the sounds of battle barely registering in her ears as darkness and pain overtook her. As she hit the ground, Sandra curled up, and directed all her pain and turmoil into a shield of flame that closely surrounded her body. The last thing she saw was the Dragonborn rush off to engage the final enemy, and the Eladrin pause for a moment, meeting her eyes in a sorrowful glance before running to aid his friends.


	6. A Life Regained

Sandra's Story – Chapter 6

The world returned to Sandra slowly, like the gently rising dawn. Unlike the last time she awoke after passing out, this one held no roar of the flame, no pain, no arid wind upon her face. Sandra gradually began to realize where she was and what was happening to her. She was not dead, like the rest of her company, destroyed so thoroughly by the adventurers. The adventurers! Sandra shot up with a start, only to be greeted by a bout of pain, and of aching muscles. She was laying in the room she used not long ago, her armour on the dresser, only a robe on her form. Looking to her right arm, she noticed with a wave of nausea and dizziness, that her arm was severed, that the hazy memories and painful recollections were despairingly honest. Sandra stood, slipping on her boots, and for the first time since that painful day at the farmhouse, she found herself grabbing the ring her father gave to her. As she tried to sort through her whirling emotions and worries, the young mage discovered that it was impossible. At least for the moment. Abandoning sorting through her crisis of character, in body and mind, Sandra made her way downstairs, to meet her once enemies, now saviours. She could hardly grasp the situation, she fell into the unknown, an emotion of freedom and terror gripping her, confusing her and elating her all at the same time.

As Sandra descended the steps, taking her time, her injury throwing her off balance, physically and mentally. As the form of the young mage descended into the candlelight of the warmly lit floor, the once armoured dwarf stood and acknowledged her presence with a concerned smile and a lift of his tankard. The dwarf had abandoned his heavy plate for comfortable travel wear, thick, to protect him from the nipping cold in the air. Sandra glanced around quickly, nervously. The situation was unfamiliar, and talking was never something she did often under Nazin. Only the dwarf stood in the lounging area, fire crackling in the back, candles all over the walls, a friendly glow infused within the room.

"Me friends and I thought it would be best for me ta' talk to ya' one on one ta' start." the dwarf stated. Sandra jumped, without a clear idea why, but the dwarf didn't notice this, or didn't care, as he continued. "Mah name is Urist. Now, I have ta' ask you a few questions. Will tha' be alright lassy?"

Sandra managed a short nod, unsure of what else to do or say.

"Good. Now, take a seat if ya' please. Good. Now, what can ya' tell us about Nazin and his plans?"

Sandra opened her mouth, only to close it again, furrowing her brow. She couldn't gather what to say. It had been so long since someone asked for her opinion without the aim to use it against her, or to tell her exactly why it was wrong. This was new.

"Nazin is… an eccentric bastard." Sandra uttered plainly, surprising herself more than anyone. " He is a practitioner of dark magic, and seeks to control all of Harkenwold before the second moon. He messed up, however, and doesn't want anyone to know about it. He doesn't have enough men and is at an impasse. He is vulnerable to a counter. From someone like you."

After that spout of words came to an end, Sandra felt a great weight lifted off her shoulders, a sense of guilt and blame lessened.

"Tha' is interestin' ta' hear… I thank ya' for tellin us this, mage. But I have ta' ask, why would ya' reveal all this wit'out a fight? Or me even havin' to threatin' to bring in the Dragonborn? Tha' was a joke." Urist inquired, ending soberly, a feat for a Dwarf that looked so intoxicated.

"I feel no dedication to that human monster. He enslaved me, stole me from my parents and performed arcane experiments with myself as the subject. He is a horrid man, and I want nothing more to do with him." Sandra was shaking somewhat as she finished speaking, out of hatred, talking bringing up more emotions than she expected.

The Dwarf simply nodded slowly, allowing her to vent all her anger for as long as she wanted. When she finished, he simply asked, "Would ya' like me ta' take a look at your arm?"

Sandra faltered. Her new injury had always been hanging in the corner of her mind as they spoke, but whenever she again recognized its presence, the revelation hit her like a ton of bricks. Sandra had no idea what she was going to do about the injury, the subject like a mental whiteout for her. Before she could say anything, she felt a stirring from deep within, welling up inside her, like an idea just out of reach.

For a moment Sandra thought it was a divine influence from the Gods, but dismissed the idea hastily. After all, what did she do to deserve the God's love? Suddenly, the demon in the back of her mind began acting up, snaking around the back of her mind, squirming away from something. Sandra then fully realized the thought, grasped the idea that was out of reach, and pulled upon the power of the elemental, commanding it to do her bidding. The beast wailed in protest, bouts of fury having no effect on Sandra's resolve. Closing her eyes, she drew upon the flame once more, forming in her mind into the shape she desired. Then, the shape began to become physical.

Sandra's shoulder glowed as the magic pressed against its border, then with a blinding light, the solid flame drew out of her body, becoming more defined and apparent, and before long, an arm, made fully of solid flame, stood where one did not a moment ago.

Sandra gaped at this, astonished at the ritual she never knew she could do. However, she was not nearly as shocked as Urist, who Sandra noticed standing there with wide eyes.

"Well I guess ya' don't need mah help, now do ya', girl?" Urist said after regaining his composure.

"No, I guess not…" Sandra responded, examining her new arm and testing its dexterity. It responded just as the last one did, functioning with methods beyond Sandra's imagination. It burned dully at this point, emitting no more light than the candles around her. Sandra expected it would still scorch her surroundings, so she kept it close. Tentatively, she tapped, and grabbed the arm, intertwining her two contrasting hands, without so much as a sunburn.

"Huh." She stated simply.

She vaguely noticed the elemental, in the back of her mind, more reserved than normal. It lay within its mental confines, somewhat weakened as she realized that it seemed unbalanced, the fire on one side outweighing the other. Sandra guessed that she claimed a part of it, taking it into her own self. The thought elated Sandra, the news bringing hope that this thing does not hold all the power, that she is not helpless against it. The elated adept then realized Urist was asking her something.

"Sorry, I was miles away. Could you repeat that?" Sandra asked, sheepishly.

"Ach', I asked whether ya' were a follower of Avandra. I may not be a cleric of her temple, but I know a presence when I feel one." The dwarf restated.

"I didn't think so… I mean, I never followed any Gods. Nazin didn't really run a temple. Unless you wanted to worship him."

"Well, something helped ya' there, and it would be a fair plan ta' thank them for their help."

Sandra nodded, only slightly paying attention. The Goddess of change and freedom would turn an eye towards a newly freed tool of war. Maybe she wanted to say something, to try to direct Sandra towards a better path. Maybe the Goddess was right.

"Well, I can see ya' don't need any healin' by me, so I figure I'll let in the rest of the party, so we can figure out what ta' do with ya'." Urist uttered, standing up and moving towards the door where Sandra gathered the rest of the adventurers waited.

"Hold on!" Sandra forcefully expressed "Not the Dragon. Please?"

Urist chuckled and nodded, and disappeared for a few moments, and when he reappeared, he brought with him the Elven Ranger, and the Eladrin Rogue.

"Friends, this is Sandra. Sandra, this is Laire an' Rolen. An' as requested, the Dragonborn has been left outside. Seems ta' be more interested in tha' drake than anything else, anyhow."

Sandra gave a slight smile to the two tall adventurers, eyes lingering on the one that she saved from Nazin's Elite. "Thank you all for sparing me. I sure didn't wholly expect it." Sandra spoke, eyes studying the floor as she did so.

There was a pause before Rolen spoke up. "My lady, it should be Laire who those words should be directed to. He personally saved you when our more rash companion took it upon himself to finish the job. Laire's steel was the only thing between you and a short end."

Sandra glanced up, looking at that Eladrin, surprise spreading across her features. The one she helped, saved her. Sandra had never seen such honour, or kindness, in all her years.

'_Aside from Dad…_' Sandra pondered, a warm smile growing on her face.

Laire began to talk, his features of concern and, more oddly, familiarity. "It was the least I could do. You spared me from a deadly opponent at the cost of your own arm-" His expression was suddenly replaced with shock as he glanced at her uninjured, glowing arm, which was, up until then, kept hidden by Sandra.

"Urist, did you have anything to do with that?" Rolen inquired, an astonished look on his face.

"Hahaha, no tha' was not a product of my God, but of Sandra's. Avandra seems ta' have turned her eyes on this young mage." Urist proclaimed, laughing jovially.

The three adventurers looked at the sorceress curiously, who sank back into her chair as far as it would allow. She opened her mouth to explain, only to close it once more, realizing that she knew even less about this than the dwarf seemed to.

"I don't know what to tell you about that…" Sandra began. "I've never worshipped a God in my life. It was considered a distraction from my training, and a division of my loyalties. Nazin would never allow it."

Urist nodded, taking the information in before stating simply, "I believe this a rare occurrence o' the Goddess choosing you. Like it or not, miss, but ya' are a part of Avandra's church." Urist laughed again, a fountain of mirth that was so very alien to Sandra. "And it looks like she's given ya' a royal gift!"

After that was said, the room fell into a comfortable silence as Sandra retreated into her thoughts, and the adventurers waited patiently for her to speak.

"Well, I don't know what to say but that you are right." Sandra whispered, her voice nonetheless carrying itself through the room. Speaking with more volume, she continued. "Now. You are freedom fighters, looking to overthrow Nazin's little scheme, right? Then there are some things you will need to know…"

The four drew close, and began to plan, ideas being formed, tactics being conjured, all thanks to Sandra's insider info. Their conversation and preparation spread long into the night, the candles shrinking low in the abandoned farmhouse that night, alighting talks of rebellion.

After several hours of this, the adventurers, Sandra's new friends, said they had as much information as they needed and Urist and Rolen left to pack up their gear. Laire stayed behind, to talk more to the young mage.

"So what will you do now? We are to move on to Tor's Hold, you are welcome to join if you'd like. And what do you think Nazin will do, now that you've escaped him?" Laire inquired, after the two had left. Sandra and the Eladrin sat in front of the fire, firelight mixing with the glow of the rogue's eyes.

Looking into the fire, Sandra breathed out, expelling the stresses and worries that had plagued her, that are yet in her peripheral. Worries that had ebbed for the moment, in that serene farmhouse, in front of the twisting fire. With these new… friends. The word came as a shock to Sandra. In fact, many of the events that recently came to pass haven't yet been processed. But now, like fire, the element that caused so much destruction in her life, it didn't worry her. She had her freedom and her life, past that, the world could end tomorrow, and she would die happily. Sandra smiled, a genuine warm smile, and finally spoke. "I would, but there are many things I need to sort out before long. Things that I have to do alone. I will see you all again. I know that. I just have to contend with this freedom you've gifted me with."

There was a silence, the dull crackle and hiss of the fire the only noise, a calming presence in Sandra's mind. Laire looked deep in thought, a content look on his face.

Sandra continued. "Thank you, though. You saved me from death, in more than one way. I don't think I can ever repay you."

Laire let out a little laugh. "I see us as even. Your fire scorched a man keen on my head. It was the least I could do, saving you from that violent sort outside. I understand. I truly do. You need time. And you will need gold!" Laire reached into a pocket on his belt, and pulled out a small pouch, tossing it at Sandra. She caught it with ease, a slight telltale jingle of coins coming from within. "7 gold and thirty silver should get you through a few weeks or so of inns and meals. There should also be a rolled up map in there."

Turning the pouch over in her hands, Sandra's eyes widened at the gesture. "I… You don't have to… Thank you. This means more than you can know."

"It's hardly a problem. You are going to certainly need it. Oh, I also should apologize, for your dagger fell out of your hands and I picked it up off the ground before the Dragonborn could steal it."

Laire held the black blade out in front of him, offering it back to Sandra, but she smiled and waved it away.

"That thing brings back too many memories. It's a deadly instrument Nazin gifted me with, one of many, and I'd much rather be rid of it." Sandra explained, the smile never leaving her face. Then an idea came to the adept. "You should keep it! Use it to fight Nazin, to bring him down. It would be perfectly fitting for the tyrant to be slain by his own weapons."

Laire paused, a devious smile spreading across his face before he laughed at the idea. "That is a wonderful idea, Sandra. I have a penchant for fire weaponry, and I think this would be a wonderful addition. And reducing Nazin to a blazing torch would be ultimately satisfying. For quite a few people, I reckon."

The two shared a laugh and some understanding as they retreated into their thoughts in front of the fire, just letting the time pass in silence and serenity.

After that exchange, Rolen and Urist re-entered, each carrying a pack over their shoulders. Laire and Sandra stood, and the young mage said her goodbyes to each of them in turn. Turning to leave the farmstead, Sandra gave one last look at the party, who had now turned to gathering up their weapons and rations. She smiled and stepped out into the cool, moonlit night. The air was welcoming and crisp, and Sandra breathed deeply before taking a few steps towards the road.

As she did so she heard a shifting, as if great sheafs of leather were being moved about. Following that noise was a clinking of metal on metal as a large figure emerged from the forest, features obscured in the dark, save for the eyes, which glinted with a cold light. A cold shiver spread up Sandra's back as she looked further behind this humanoid and spotted the drake she rode with not a day ago looking passively at her.

'_Shit! Nazin's sent someone already!_' Sandra thought rapidly, falling back into a defensive stance and directed her emotion into her arm. The flames grew alive and bright as she held it in front of her, ready for anything.

When the firelight spilled into the dark forest, Sandra saw that it was not a minion of Nazin, but rather the Dragonborn from earlier, Thyllan. Sandra did not drop her guard.

The tall scaled warrior spoke with the same powerful voice she heard earlier. "You need not be afraid madam. I only speak to rectify our previous issues."

Sandra lowered her arm somewhat, but keeping it ablaze as she replied. "You tried to kill me. Hard to be forgiven for that."

'_I should know.'_ She said inwardly, reflecting on her murder of that rebel so many years ago, and the much more recent incident at the farmer's house.

"I kill many people in my journeys, but I do not do so without reason. I had reason." Thyllan remarked.

"You had little reason to here. I was trying to help your friend, when you cut my arm off."

"I did not mean to. My blade is heavy and hard to turn aside." Thyllan spoke, but Sandra sensed that he did not say the truth. Much of the dragonborn's story seemed off to Sandra. Being taken by rage, by something inside yourself, but altogether alien. This is what Sandra saw when she faced off against him.

"I don't want to hear this." Sandra simply returned, and began to walk off.

"Wait! Here me out and my proposition before you go." Sandra paused, not easing her glare. Thyllan continued. "You are a woman new to the open world, long bound up in servitude, correct? I can give you experience you will need for the outside world; the feel of a man's touch. The night is still young, and you and I can yet share a bed this evening."

When Thyllan finished his repulsive offer, Sandra felt rage take her. The offer was well voiced, remarkably so, and she was sure it would have worked for a barmaid, or noble woman new to life and lies, but Sandra had seen inside the dragonborn's motivations, the way he surrendered to rage and violence. She would sooner trust the demon inside her over the beast standing in front of her. Sandra's arm erupted in a blue flame, a blade like visage, and she held it in front of her menacingly.

"I would sooner die." Sandra whispered viciously.

Thyllan's features, once smug and proud, twisted into that of hate and anger for a split second before he was able to reign it in, and replace it with a calm mask once more. "I did not mean to offend. You may go on your way."

Sandra took a couple steps backwards, glancing back at the drake that seemed to have befriended the dragonborn. They already seemed closer than the rider that sat upon the creature earlier this afternoon.

'_Fitting. Two wild beasts now paired.'_ Sandra mused. Finally turning away from the repugnant adventurer. '_But this is a dangerous enemy to have. I have seen what he really is, and he hates me for it. If he can turn a barely domestic Drake to his side, retaliations from him could be deadlier than even Nazin. At least Nazin doesn't lie about his intentions' _

Shivering slightly in the still air, Sandra dulled the flames on her new arm, and picked up her pace. Only once the forest was left quite a distance behind her did she slow. Taking in the simple pleasure of putting one foot in front of another, Sandra walked on, revelling in the freedom of travel. She went this way for several kilometres as she pondered, mind a-whirl with questions and uncertainties. The more she walked, the more they built up, until suddenly, she realized that the beauty of freedom is that the questions didn't have to be answered this moment. She had all her years for discovering things, years she could spend doing what she wanted.

A doubtful voice sounded in the back of her mind. '_So long as Nazin doesn't find you first._'

Sandra smiled wryly at this thought.

'_Let him come.' _She answered simply. '_He's got plenty to answer to, and I can't wait to make him do so._'

And so Sandra was struck with a single notion in this calm night of changes; things were going to get interesting soon.


	7. War Planning

Sandra's Story - Chapter 7

Dawn broke with a eagle's cry, a splitting, harsh sound to some, but to Sandra it was welcomed as a beautiful note. She had walked all night, exhaustion and soreness surprisingly absent as she pressed on. The still dark night sky was contrasted by the brightening horizon when the wind began to pick up, racing towards the rising sun. Things seem to have come full circle. Everything about Sandra's life before this moment seemed a precursor to her newfound freedom. With that thought in mind, she walked on, towards the village of Albridge, the one she helped lay siege to, unsuccessfully.

'_Now,_' Sandra thought grimly. _'How would they greet me now? Well I suppose I will find out soon enough.'_

Sandra pressed on, unabated by the doubts that began to grow in her mind, by the knot in her gut that began to tighten. She resolved to follow through with this long ago, there would be no sense in backing down now. Minutes stretched on like that road she followed, and as she got closer and closer to her goal, time stretched on unending.

Then with a shift that shattered the tension, a guard up ahead at a makeshift barricade shouted out. With a start and a mental groan, Sandra realized that she likely should have taken off her iron circle robes before marching directly into their enemies border guard.

"Oi! You there!" The guard shouted out. "Keep your hands right there and don't move an inch if you don't want to have an arrow sticking out of ya!"

The tightening of bowstrings was heard from behind the barricade as two more guards popped out from behind the wood planks, arrows nocked, bows pointed down. Sandra raised her hands in response, slowly, before shouting her reply.

"My name is Sandra, previously an adept for one Nazin Redthorn. I have recently escaped him and seek aid, and to lend my services to the people of Harkenwold and Albridge." Sandra finished, looking hopefully towards their faces, looking for any sign of their thoughts.

The lead guard said something to his companions before walking towards the fire mage. Stopping when he got within a sword length of the girl, he simply asked. "And why would a mercenary mage run away from a contract? I was under the impression you lot could walk out at any time. So you could see why I'm a touch suspicious about your being here."

"For most mercenaries, this would be true. But I am not a mercenary." Sandra looked up at the guard, meeting his eyes before continuing. "I'm a slave. Ex-slave now, I suppose."

"Hmm… that's an easy story to conjure up. Slavers took you and sold you to a mercenary lord. Sadly, not an uncommon one in this world either. I have no reason to believe you."

Sandra let out a sigh, not entirely unprepared for such an outcome, spoke slowly at this point. "I know. That's why I want you to take me to Dar, shackled, so I can answer for the part I played in the attack on Harkenwold. I will go more than willingly."

"You would readily stand trial in front of Dar? Our leader is not known for his kindness towards enemies, you know. I'm saying this for your own benefit." The guard raised an eyebrow as he spoke.

Sandra simply nodded and held out her hands. "Here, I'm offering myself up as prisoner."

The border guard exhaled, and shouted over his shoulder. "Brom! Bring us some rope, and prepare yourself to escort this lady back to the village." Looking back towards Sandra he added. "Don't make me regret this decision."

"You won't. And I never caught your name." Sandra spoke.

The man let out a slight laugh and said, "Emre. Most call me Em, though. Should I see you again, I do hope it won't be in chains. Too many people have died these past few months." As Emre said those words, his eyes grew distant and painful.

Sandra nodded to Emre, knowing all too well the pain he was experiencing. A moment passed, and the other guards approached with rope to bind Sandra's hands. She went without a struggle and began the solemn march towards the town she had inflicted so much pain towards. The slow march stretched onto a crawl for the second time this day as farmsteads around her grew more packed, and the patchy forest fell away to the wood huts and log cabins of the sleepy town of Albridge. This day it was not sleepy, however. Men rushed about moving buckets of water to the smiths for their forging, bushels of arrows to some tents in the back with wood elf markings and donkeys pulled carts of axes, swords, shields, anything a war can be fought with. The shift in the town was so stark and apparent that Sandra stopped for a moment to take it in.

"You should keep moving, mercenary. You best not stay in the streets long, as 'alf this crowd has a vendetta 'gainst you. And I've 'alf a mind to let 'em do their thing." The guard escorting her grunted, clearly not in the mood for kind words.

Sandra only nodded and continued, finally seeing the object of her quest for redemption. A great blacksmith's forge sat at a junction in the town, tents extending its working border out past its roof, and into the streets where men pounded on anvils, and others deeper inside poured over maps and diagrams on a large circular table in the center of the smithy. As she passed the threshold of the makeshift war room, Sandra saw who she believed was the leader of the entire operation. She was told names, vague descriptions, what all the Iron Circle was told about the leader of the rebels. The man had a strong face, hard lines and dark, knowing eyes that told a life of experience, the scars on his shoulders and muscular arms affirmed this fact. A light beard dusted his face, the facial hair of the haggard and busy. This was most certainly Dar Gremath, the one who stood at the opposite end of the round table was the one Sandra was forced to oppose.

Dar, who had been watching Sandra approach down the road, said. "Why." The single word hung in the room for a moment, occupied the pause before Dar continued in a harsh tone. "Why would an Iron Circle mercenary just hand themselves over to their enemy. Now, I'm no expert, but I think this means you aren't getting payed. Or did you already get paid and you are now here to sell your services and information to us for the biggest profit? Mercenaries. Make me sick."

Sandra listened to this all, letting the guilt build up, the sorrow and regret mount with every word, until suddenly something within her snapped.

"No." Sandra forcefully uttered, meeting Dar's eyes with a resolute stare.

"I'm sorry?" He replied, an eyebrow raising.

"I am not one of them." Sandra responded. "I was never one of them. I was stolen, from my parents, from my life, and raised in a brutish facade of an academy. Forced to follow his will because there was never another way to live. Saying that I am nothing more than a greedy, traitorous being is the worst insult, because that sort of being did this to me. Enslaved me. I don't care what you do now, but I would never go back to them alive."

Every word of her speech was thrown up in defiance of her former captors, in exclamation of her freedom. In assertion of her control of her own life. Live or die, she will fight for what she wanted.

Dar met her gaze for a few more moments after she finished speaking before saying, slowly. "That is quite a speech. You are either a very convincing spy, or honest in your story. And there lies the issue. I can never know whether you are honest, especially when it would endanger my people."

Sandra let out a breath. This also was not entirely unexpected, the distrust. She could deal with anything they would do to her. So much worse was experienced with Nazin anyhow. Her thoughts then turned towards what they might do to her… imprison her? Hang her? While death was something she had to deal with all her life, never had she thought about it so personally. If she died, she would never see her father again. Pain, dulled by years of separation, returned with renewed vigour as Sandra fought back a choke. She reached to her neck for the ring that always was with her, silently reminding her of her past. Sandra passed it back and forth between her fingers, no thought turned towards her fingers movements, they knew this dance so well.

Dar's words broke through her introspection. The sudden change of tone took Sandra by surprise as he asked. "…Where did you get that ring? "

Sandra looked back up at Dar and saw his face held an emotion of shock. He repeated, more boldly this time. "I must ask again: Where did you get that ring?"

"My father… the last time he saw me, gave me this ring." Sandra answered, surprised at herself for responding so readily. She had never told anyone that. "This is the only memento I have from my family from before."

"May I see it, my girl?"

Ordinarily, Sandra would never have given over her ring, but Dar's curious behaviour and a wayward idea suggested that she should give it a chance. Dar walked around the table to grab the ring from Sandra's outstretched hand. With a look of growing surprise, he turned it over and over, before shouting out the open doorway.

"I need a cleric in here!"

Sandra was growing very curious at this point, at this unusual display from the rebel leader and a flittering hope grew in her gut, like a candle's flame during a lull in the storm. After an excruciating moment of uncertainty, the cleric rushed into the room, giving Sandra a cold glare before Dar rushed up to him and began talking in whispered tones. The priest nodded and took the ring to the table, where he did some divine ritual right on the oak table. Sandra couldn't make heads nor tails of it as he performed complicated prayers and gestures with a gold sun implement. After a diffuse, golden light filled the room, the cleric nodded, whispered to Dar once again, and left the room. Sandra was beginning to get a bit annoyed with the secrecy, impatient at the unknown.

Dar walked over to Sandra with the ring necklace, and gently put it over her neck. Sandra froze, unprepared for such kindness.

"Tell me girl. Who is your father?" Dar inquired.

"His name is Mackal. My mother is Sarah." Sandra replied, utterly curious at where this was going, still holding that candle of a hope.

Dar let out a long breath he was evidently holding for quite some time. "My dear. It has been a long time since I have seen Mackal, but I served with him under the King of Dalforge, so very long ago. I lost contact with him, as all of the company did. To see his own flesh and blood standing right in front of me is unimaginably joyous. He was an honourable man, wise and strong. If you are his daughter, I can't doubt your story."

Sandra was about to speak when Dar embraced her in a hug, squeezing her breath out with pure affection.

"Oh! I almost forgot to even properly introduce myself! My name is Dar Gremath. And you are?"

Sandra couldn't hold back a smile as she replied. "Sandra." The candle light of hope erupted into a bonfire, a hearth at the end of a long journey.

"Well then Sandra, I think you need some rest. You've likely been travelling for quite some time. You may use my son's quarters, he is out pleading to the King of Dalforge for help in our plight. Gods willing, he will make it in time to end this all decisively. But that is not the time for such talk, you need a good sleep."

Dar led Sandra into the back of the smithy where a comfortable living room, complete with a fireplace and soft down couches, sat. one room back there was a well made room with a bed and empty dresser, much better lodgings than the master bedroom back at the ambush site.

Sandra turned to Dar and said. "This is unbelievably generous of you. I can't thank you enough for-"

Dar then cut her off gently, saying. "No need for that now. You want to thank me, you can treat me to a meal at the pub after this is all over. But for now, you need to get some sleep. I will send someone with clothes not tainted by the mark of our enemy later, and you can come over for dinner. Then you can tell me the story of how you escaped. I will see you in a few hours."

Dar bid Sandra a quick goodbye and left her in the silence of the back room. Sandra exhaled, the breath turning into a little laugh, expelling the stress and nervousness of this meeting out along with air. Sandra laughed again, softly, revelling in the way it melted the stress away. Suddenly realizing her exhaustion, now that adrenalin and pure terror didn't keep her up, Sandra collapsed back into the bed, smiling as it proved to be as comfortable as it appeared. Sandra got up again, only long enough for her to peel off the grimy, travel worn clothes, before collapsing into a restful and deep sleep.

* * *

The first thing Sandra felt when she returned to the world of the living was a tug at her feet, or more accurately, a tug at the blanket covering her feet. Opening her eyes and peering down to the foot of the bed, Sandra could see nothing. However a moment later, a pull was again felt, this time from to her right, but once again, no amount of looking could find its source. Sandra's sleep addled mind couldn't make heads or tails of the situation until a soft giggle was heard from under the bed. Pulling off the covers and rolling over to one side, Sandra tumbled off the bed and met eyes with a pair of young children.

One looked older than the other by a few years, a small boy nonetheless, and by the subtle points to his ears and angular nature to his face, it was easily concluded that the child was a half elf. The other was a young girl, couldn't be older than 3, but a mischievous glint told Sandra that this one was much cleverer than her apparent age suggested. The pairs eyes grew wide at the sudden appearance of the mage, they shared a glance, and burst into a fit of hysterics over a wordless exchange. Sandra smirked, charmed by the simple antics of the two, and she motioned towards them, inviting them out from under the bed.

"Hello there you two. Normally I don't get wake up calls in quite that manner, but let me tell you: It's much better than being woken up by a nasty man with a stick!" Sandra joked, her voice light and friendly towards the children. They both laughed again, and began to crawl out from under their hiding place.

After they stood up and brushed themselves off, Sandra kneeled by them, meeting their eyes. Trying to read them through just their gazes wasn't something she was used to, but she tried it nonetheless. The children were, quite plainly, mischievous and young, but the simple fact that struck Sandra about them, was that they were normal. These kids have had a normal life, with parents, homes and time to be the children they were meant to be. Sandra thought it exceedingly strange that this is the feature that most interested her, but on a basic level, it made sense.

"My name is Sandra. Would you two be so kind as to part with your names?"

The older boy was the one to answer. "My name is Adel, and this is my half sister, Sellia. Dar sent us to wake you and take you over to the inn for a good meal with him and the rest of the family."

"He said to wake you!" Sellia exclaimed energetically, before becoming silent again, her hands in front of her mouth only barely concealing the grin.

"Well you certainly did that job well, Sellia." Sandra answered, patting the young girl on the head. "You too Adel. Maybe you could help me find my way to the inn now?"

The two only exchanged another glance, before nodding with a wide smile and bolting out the door. Sandra barely had time to put on a fresh batch of clothes that had been set out for her, and securing the pouch of hers around the belt. She ran after the children, more listening to where the eager footfalls led rather than see them, as the two bolted around corners and through alleyways. Always moving towards what sounded like the center of the small farming village. As Sandra ran, she marvelled at the new clothes she had been given: A simple brown travellers tunic secured by a belt near the waist, and dotted with pockets, and pants that were neither too tight or too loose; just right for tearing through the streets after rapid guides. And the most interesting addition of all was an arm-long glove for her burning hand. Dar certainly was perceptive. It seemed to be made of a sort of tough fabric, inlayed with impossibly small rings of metal. Sandra couldn't think of how she could thank Dar, but she believed that by the end of this campaign, she will soon find one. She had never really had the chance to try on outfits. Robes were her only option before this point. Freedom had interesting perks she never considered before.

Sandra rounded another corner and she saw the Inn she was being led to. Light spilled out into the streets which were greying in the twilight and voices, music, and clinks of glass mingled in a mild cacophony in the street. The children were at the door, waving and motioning like mad men for Sandra to come inside. She obliged them, and once inside, the mood of the place overtook her. Men and their families sat around at large tables talking happily with friends and neighbours as they ate as one large community. The music was being played up near a rise at the back of the inn, a makeshift stage made by putting a large sheet of wood over some boxes. Sandra finally caught a familiar face in the crowd, the children having disappeared in the whirling crowd the instant she walked in the door. Dar sat somewhere near the fireplace, at one of the largest tables in the establishment, and it was he who certainly needed it. He was surrounded by numerous people who all joked and conversed over maps and parchment, the planning taking a hiatus in lieu of good food, drink and company. Sandra stepped over, picking her way through the crowd until she reached the table, taking a seat down by Dar.

"The entire village must be here, Dar." Sandra spoke over the noise, more stating a fact than asking a question.

"That it is, dear girl. Normally it is not so, but in recent times, when danger looms so close, family and good times seem all the more important. Plus the inn acts as a stronghold for this town. Furthest it is in, and toughest to get through with our new defences." Dar rambled, his voice only slightly dulled by the ambient roar of chatter.

Another man interjected. "Dar, old boy, would you introduce the table to this new guest?"

Sandra looked around at all the faces that then turned to her, and sunk back slightly. Their eyes studied her, but the mage worried that they would somehow spot the fact that, not two weeks ago, she spoke directly to their most hated enemy, and served under him for nearly all her life.

"Why, of course. My friends, this is Sandra. Daughter of Mackal." Dar explained, and when he spoke her father's name, the table grew quiet. A few of the men, nodded, eyes staring vacantly off into the distance, clearly watching a distant memory, not the grain of the wooden walls. Dar continued, letting the message register and allowing for the table to focus once more before he uttered the following words. "And she is going to help us win this war."

* * *

Sandra sat at the empty table, one where not long ago the people of this village ate and drank, where they welcomed her warmly and as a friend. But they had all retired to their beds this late summer evening. Not long ago the fire was roaring and music drifted above the conversation of fellows. But the bard was asleep, and the fire was dim and low. And now Sandra sat, tracing designs in the table in front of her, a knot slowly growing in her gut. Not long ago, Dar heralded her as the one that could bring about the end of this war. The people were ecstatic and they clapped her on the back and cheered when she regaled them with her story. Now they have all left. All but Dar, and a select few of the elders of this village, who were in the back, grabbing plans and logs of the villages resources. They were preparing a war meeting, with her as the consultant. Sandra exhaled, slowly, controlling the outlet of energy from her core. The faintly burning embers suddenly leapt alive once more, feeding off Sandra's sigh. There was a lot on her mind.

'_Good gods, they expect me to know everything. To have all the answers'_ Sandra cursed in her mind. '_I don't know if I do, to be perfectly honest. Saving the village? End the war? That's hero stuff.'_

Even as she spoke those dejected thoughts, a little niggling voice in the back of her mind simply said

'_What if you are a hero_?'

The voice was so out of the blue, Sandra had to let out a little laugh.

'_I'm no hero. I'm not brave, not morally upright. I don't have the right attitude. I mean, by the gods, I was raised by a psychopath. No telling how much that's warped me.'_

The voice didn't have a rebuttal, but the inspiring sense of doubt it kindled remained. Sandra didn't have any more time for introspection anyhow, as Dar and 3 others entered the main room carrying several rolls of parchment.

"We will just set up there, don't worry." Dar spoke, addressing his companions. He then spoke to Sandra directly. "Sandra, this is the village blacksmith Kathrid, Erst, our main general store owner, and our village elder, Gerrad. These have been the few leading the battle and our preparations against the Iron Circle."

The three nodded to Sandra as they were introduced in turn, and Sandra managed a smile and a nod back at each of them. Kathrid was a dwarven woman who looked only a touch older than Sandra herself, and had a determination to match her smithy's muscle. Erst looked like a quiet man, but with an intelligent and strategic manner that spoke without words. A thin face was contrasted by his wide brimmed hat in an almost comical manner, but his serious expression dulled the humour. Finally Gerrad was an older Halfling gentlemen with practiced, craftsman's fingers and a head of silver sparse hair. Dar had them all sit at a round table, and lay the plans out in front of them. Then they all turned to Sandra, questioning and expectant in the same instant. There was a pause where Sandra was utterly unsure as to what to say, but happily, the merciful Dar broke the silence.

"So Sandra. You've been working for the Iron circle for some time. Can you tell us anything about them, their leader or plans?"

Sandra breathed in, steadying her thoughts and voice, before responding. "Well their leader is likely the only person you need to know about to understand their plans and their actions. Nazin is a corrupt mage, ruthless and keen on gathering power. This news is old news. Any old iron circle rookie could tell you that. I however, was closer to him than them. I can tell you that he has a small elite guard of inhuman soldiers, and powerful adepts. I know, because I am one of those powerful adepts. To my knowledge, there are 5 left in his army. The elite soldiers, however, are more numerous."

Sandra took a break to breath, and look around at the 4 before continuing. They held on to her every word.

"I'm not sure how he makes them, but dear Gods, I am sure he doesn't do it alone. He spoke with someone, of great power, someone who had power over the powerful. And the power-hungry. While I doubt that figure will make an appearance here, he is important to know about if you are to understand the true nature of Nazin and his army. Nazin is looking to take over all of the vale, but I'm sure you knew about that already. What I can tell you that you will enjoy is he is reeling after that last attack. Weaker. I've already talked to some adventurers who helped me escape, and told them the same. They are going to continue to work at uniting the vale, gathering the wood elves help, and Tor's hold. What we have to focus on here is preparing for an all out assault. Weapons and training will be necessary. As well as strategising. Organizing our forces and educating them on the dangers and weak points of all Nazin's forces."

The group nodded, and Erst spoke what was on all of their minds. "Looks like we will be in an all out war, then? Do we have time though? If Dalforge comes through and sends us troops, we will be able to march on Iron Keep and destroy them."

Sandra responded by shaking her head. She explained. "I've heard about that, and that isn't certain enough. If it was, we could wait, play it defensively, but as it stands, we need to take the offensive by ourselves. But hopefully we won't be alone."

"I agree! This fool must be taken down quickly an' we are just tha ones ta do it!" Kathrid exclaimed enthusiastically. She rapped her knuckles against the table as she spoke, enforcing her words.

Dar looked troubled. "It's not that I don't trust your words, Sandra, but this is dangerous. Suppose he's stronger than you expect? I can't have everyone dying over the chance that we can take them down."

"I know. That's why you have me. If we attacked intelligently rather than violently, our lack of experience and smaller numbers won't be as much of a handicap. We will have less deaths if we fight them on our terms rather than wait for them to break through the barricades and take over. I can also tell you something interesting about Nazin; he is proud, arrogant and cocky. He expects little to nothing from what he considers peasants. He would never expect an attack."

Dar hummed, mulling over the facts in front of him. He huffed and said. "Right. You are right, girl. We need to then make more weapons. Kathrid?"

"I'll be on it quicker than an elf on a tree when a dire bear is around." She quipped, as she nodded her answer.

"Good. Erst, organize what you can in way of improvised siege weaponry. Gerrad, if you could rally the defence force and organize a time where they and the militia can train regularly. Also get more recruits, if you can. I will oversee the training myself, and prepare all the horses I have for hard riding and scouting."

The two nodded obediently and began packing up the maps and papers.

"Finally, Sandra, what will you want to do? I would love it if you would help me in training the men. You have more knowledge than any of us on their tactics and squad organization, but there is much to help with around the village. Lots of work to do, that is the honest truth if I ever did see it."

Sandra knew what she wanted to do, but asking took a bit of effort. Sandra turned to Kathrid and inquired. "Would you be willing to take me in the forge? And entire village worth of weapons can't be easy to throw together, and I have a feeling a fire mage would be helpful in a smithy."

"Well sure there, girly! I would be willing ta take on tha extra help. And ya be damn right about tha' last thing. I feel like this will be a good workin' relationship!" Kathrid answered, clapping Sandra in the shoulder.

Dar smiled slightly. "Excellent. Kathrid, you can have her all morning, but be sure to send her over to the stables after lunch. Sandra, we are all done here, we can head back to my house for some rest. Tomorrow will be a big day."

Sandra smiled back, nodding goodbye, until tomorrow, to Kathrid, and responded. "Well, I just slept for a few hours. I won't be able to yet for a while. If it's all the same to you I would like to go walking around the village before I retire."

Dar nodded, saying he will meet her back at the house, as he turned to leave.

"And one more thing, Dar." Sandra said, catching his arm as he turned away. "Thank you. For taking me into your home, for not ousting me for my past, my crimes. And especially for this glove. It covers my abnormality perfectly."

"Anything for the daughter of Mackal. One of these days I will take you for a walk and tell you about your father and I and the adventures we shared. You have my word." With that, he departed, leaving Sandra in the inn alone once more.

Without a second thought, Sandra stepped into the cool night taking in a deep breath. The voice in her mind simply had the following to say;

'_You can be a hero'_


	8. New Work and Old Memories

Sandra's Story - Chapter 8

The following few days were exceptionally good, considering the recent pattern. Good honest farmwork was quite the change from military labour, and heavily contrasted her arcane training. For instance, there was no one yelling at her and threatening her with lashes. She could tell from the first hour that the simple work was where she belonged. It had been nearly two decades since she was ever in a village by her own choice, but the sense of belonging was strong. Kathrid was a good teacher, tough when she needed to be, but it was obvious her blunt words were only meant to help. Quite frankly, it was nothing compared to the downright abrasive people Sandra normally spent time with. Work went quickly, and the teaching went quicker as the young mage learned more about smithing. The dwarf began to appreciate the help of a bit of fire or force magic where ever the forge needed it. The morning was cooler than most, but the smithy was as warm as ever, and when the call for lunch came, Sandra realised how parched and hungry the work made her. She ate with Dar and a few other villagers, remaining quiet, answering when questioned but mostly enjoying the company of good hearted, honest people. After the break, Sandra went over to help Dar arrange troops and brief them on the strengths of Nazin's army. She showed them formations to best counter their tactics, and who to focus on in the enemy ranks. She almost didn't realize it when the sun had disappeared behind sloping hills, not until Dar directly pointed it out to her with a smile. With a few words of encouragement and orders from Dar, the company of militiamen turned to gather up their gear and return home.

As they did so, Sandra trailed behind the troops, listening to their conversations with an idle ear.

"You should have seen him! He was huge, bigger than anyone in this village!" One militiaman exclaimed to the other troops.

Another responded, sardonically. "We heard the rumours, Alex, the adventurers were larger than life, we know, we know."

"Nah, you don't understand," Alex pressed "If anything can save us from those mercs, its them. Especially-"

"The big one, we know." The man interrupted, wearily. Then he spotted Sandra following behind them. "Hey, why don't we get some actual word about them? Sandra, right? You saw the group, didn't ya?"

Sandra paused, but just for a moment. "Yeah, I- they actually freed me from the group I was a part of. Really good at what they do. Four in total. The big one you keep referring to. What did he look like?" Sandra asked tentatively, fearing the answer.

"Scaly fellow. Had an axe. You talked to him?"

Sandra let out a short breath. Not humorous enough to be a laugh. "Did more than talk to him. Really, he isn't keen on talking. If it were up to him, I'd have been slaughtered like the other mercenaries. He did manage to cut my arm off, though."

The excited villager, Alex, was silent for a moment, then his face became more troubled. Before he could say or ask anymore, Sandra excused herself and turned down a street to go to the inn.

'_Alright, it's okay, talking to people _normally _will come. You are new at this..' _Sandra thought. '_People talking to me to just to say more than a few orders or to hold a rigid conversation is _really _new…'_

The warm light of the inn spilled into the street long before Sandra reached the door, music and laughter being carried along with it. The sorcerer paused before heading in, appraising the dark one last time before joining the village in the little celebration of life that seemed to occur every eve at the tavern, even in these dark times. Especially in the dark times.

Taking a seat near a front window, Sandra waved off the bartenders attempts to give her food, and instead conceding to having a bit of ale for the night. She received it quickly and slid the mug back and forth on the table, far more interested in fiddling with it idly as her thoughts wandered than with drinking it. The words and noises coming from the bar slipped into the background of Sandra's mind, becoming a faint hum as her mind worked.

An idea began to tug on her, pulling her thoughts around in her mind through some influence not entirely her own. Images of simple texts and scrolls she had learned from flashed across her mind's eye, as the books were replaced by her first dips into the arcane, her training and lessons swept by so quickly, yet were as vivid as her memories of the morning. The experience confused and shocked Sandra, for a moment, but the sensation didn't dim in the slightest. Concluding that whatever the episode was, it couldn't be dangerous, the pyromancer sat back and witnessed whatever the flashback had to offer.

A sloping hill covered in dry grass, that gradually grew steeper, becoming more and more difficult to scale. And Sandra wasclimbing the hill, fighting her way up the slope with every breath labored and painful, like a racking cough. The sensation was so real to the mage, which was in itself surreal, since this _was_ happening, wasn't it? There was no reason to think it wasn't. As Sandra's mind entertained existential ideas, she didn't even realize that her legs moved on their own accord. She was running from the pain of whips and scarring, from the ire of her cruel master. There were others running, too, from the same master and the same pains, to some destination that would prevent that. So the purest of animal instincts drove them on, up the grassy hill to the obelisk that stood atop it.

An obelisk, such an obvious landmark, Sandra wondered why she didn't see it until now. But she had seen it, she knew it was there and only glanced to reassure herself that her goal was nearing. The surreal sensation again passed quickly as her motivations flashed in her mind.

"_Use your powers, burn the ancient relic and destroy it, and you may be allowed to eat tonight."_ Their master had stated not too long ago, with such a detached tone that was typical of the old wizard.

Sandra knew she had power. It showed itself in her aptitude with flame and energy, her resistance to burns. That resistance had been tested exhaustively, Sandra recalled with a wince. But she had never called the power to do more than that. She knew the theory, she knew of the method, but the practice had eluded her, and all the other students, for so long. And up until today, not so much has hung off a simple spell.

So she pushed on with determination to succeed. However determination can only replace strength for so long, as a larger boy made it to the stone column before she. He began to act out motions, and draw symbols in the air in an amateurish manner. The spectacle of the novice magician would have been humorous, if it had not reminded Sandra of her looming failure. She pushed on, to the boy with no face at the top of the hill. It was strange that this boy had no face, Sandra realized, yet she couldn't place why he was missing his. She brushed it off, but not before she realized that none of the students around her had faces. They had a blur where features should be. This was odd indeed. But this did not bother Sandra. She had to win, she had to succeed, or pain would return to her.

She arrived at the obelisk with the bulk of the group, whereupon they all began gesturing wildly, with naught but a puff of smoke materializing. Sandra went through the motions, like all the others, but then she stopped. She felt an itch, deep within, and thought that this might be magical link they all had, the link they needed to draw on to cast any spells at all. Grasping at straws, Sandra took a deep breath and meditated on this niggling feeling. The stirring grew in power and urgency until the young girl could swear that she felt its physical presence along with the arcane. At that moment she grasped at it and lashed out at the stone in front of her.

She sneezed.

Her sneeze caused an explosion that shook the earth and knocked her back about a dozen feet.

The ringing didn't stop when Nazin stood over her, his wizened face and crooked features looking smoother and younger than normal. A thought passed, suggesting that this was a contradiction, but at this point, surreal experiences were not of Sandra's concern.

The older wizard began to speak, and the ringing faded away. "Well you've dipped your toe in the arcane, ripped a crater in our world, and shattered an obsidian obelisk." Sandra glance around; the damage _was_ extensive. "You show prowess above the others. Maybe you won't die as quickly."

Nazin turned and left at that. The field and the hill began to blur, like when you first wake and can't rub the sleep from your vision. Sandra got up, and saw the rest of the adepts trailing behind Nazin dejectedly. Sandra took a moment to marvel at her destructive power, and had to stifle a grin. She really did just rip a three foot crater in the ground, with bits of obelisk scattered about. With a cheerful spin, Sandra ran to catch up with the group as the world came crashing down on her.

With a start, Sandra returned to the bar in Albridge, and was hit with a wave of disorientation and nausea.

'_That' _she stated simply, shaking away delirium, '_was not a normal flashback…'_

The subject of the memory first struck Sandra. The location and event that brought around her first spell. It was a brutish and barbaric spell, and any if respectable academy wizards witnessed it they would die scoffing. But it was a moment of great personal pride in Sandra. She always felt alone, growing up, and the sense of identity she gained when she communed with the great arcanic well was life saving to a young girl enslaved. Next the _subjects _of the memory occurred to Sandra.

'_None of them had faces… everyone but Nazin. Those young kids who were alongside me in enslavement, I can't even recall their faces anymore.'_ She paused for a moment and thought '_Every one of those children are dead by now. Makes sense that they would be faceless in my memories.'_

Sandra gave a bit more attention to the memory itself, and let the conflicting emotions of loss, loneliness and the pain of growing up clash with the pride she felt when she called on magic the first time and the simple glee she felt from creating a bit of destruction. Her simple musings were interrupted, however, by one troubling thought.

'_Who the hells just made me have an out of body experience into my own past?' _Sandra questioned, then she looked over the facts in her head. '_Whatever it was, it was concerned with my past, my personality. Its concerned with where my power comes from and what inspires it… it couldn't be Nazin. He knew that, and if he could do a long distance telepathic scrying spell, he would be immensely powerful, and could likely crush this town in a second, himself. That is _not _the case, so that rules out Nazin.'_

Sandra suddenly realized where she was. The few remaining patrons of the bar eyed her occasionally, sidelong and warily. It was late, and she caused some sort of scene, that much was clear. Red rising to Sandra's face, she excused herself, grabbed some odd coins out of her pouch for the innkeeper, and departed to her current room.

Once alone with her thoughts, Sandra approached the problem head on. But not before she slipped out of her shoes and collapsed onto the bed.

'_That really only leaves one malevolent entity left. The fire elemental.'_ Sandra concluded.

She looked for the beast in her mind, expecting to find some smug creature in the back of her mind, clutching a piece of her past greedily. The case was quite the contrary. The elemental sat in her consciousness, but less like a burning fire of hate and destruction and more like a pile of smoldering embers. Present, but hardly prevalent. Sandra narrowed her eyes at this confusion. The beast wanted to look unassuming. She was sure of it. However, it wasn't as immediately guilty as Sandra hoped it would seem. She pushed the matter away, resolving to watch the beast, as it was nearly certainly planning something terrible. She just didn't know what it was yet.

The pressing matter of the day dealt with, Sandra pushed herself up to get changed for the night. She took off her new garments and let herself experience the night air, her body burning after whatever that ordeal she experienced was, exactly. Finally cooled after her long day, Sandra opted for a simple nightshirt she found in the closet. It wasn't hers, it was far too big, but was as comfortable as an old sweater. Pleased, Sandra plopped back down in the bed, preparing for a night of rest after a long day of work.

As her mind calmed down, Sandra was hit with a fleeting thought that delayed sleep for a few more minutes at the least.

'_If the entity is growing subtler, what it has planned could be more dangerous than all its rage on the equinox…_'

She worried about that for as long as her exhausted body would let her before she simply passed out, depleted after the day.


End file.
